This past week was the very definition of extreme highs and extreme lows. I started the week off doing okay, managing to stay up with my work, homework, house work, meditation, journaling, work out program but by Friday I was just exhausted and thought it wouldn't be a terrible thing to just take one night off. I sat in my chair and played Lego Harry Potter all night and just tried to relax from the week. I wish I could say this didn't turn into a bit of a habit over the next few days but I'm going for honesty here.
Saturday was a day of highs. After last weekends dismal archery lesson, I was really hoping it was a fluke and I could find my zen again this week. Mission accomplished. I managed to stay in my goal scoring most of the hour and we've decided to move the target back to the full 18 yards next week. Hoping some shiny new archery equipment will be a good 30th birthday present this summer. Then ran down to Hyde Park for a Passion Party with a few of my girl friends. Usually, this kind of thing bothers me. It turns into a bunch of giggly girls who are uptight about sex and just end up saying horrible, embarrassing things. But my girl friends are all open, honest, unbiased people with a mature and intellectual approach to the topic and it was actually a quite enjoyable way to spend an afternoon.
In the evening, I ran up to the UIC campus for the U Choir concert. U Choir (the top choir at my university) is my one biggest regret from my college experience. When I started out, I was set up to be a pretty big deal as far as the choir scene at my school (which is kind of a big deal). By the end of my freshman year, I had let depression and smoking take over and, even though I was called back for U Choir the next year, I didn't make it in and even got demoted to a lower choir than I had been in the year before. I never got the chance again. I had to watch them perform every year with all of my friends and I can honestly say that, musically, nothing has ever filled that sense of loss I have for a missed opportunity. Seeing them perform Saturday was beautifully moving and joyful and sad. The smile on Dr. Holmes' face when I hugged him, watching him conduct, listening to the beautiful sounds of this year's kids, ecstatic reunions with old friends, a feeling of pride watching my friend Sissy enjoying her senior year the right way with the best choir, and a twinge of sadness as they stood in circle afterward and I could only watch from the outside. Afterward, Zach and I headed over to Galway from some good food and Magner's. Overall, it was a fantastic day.
But then the lows hit. Because at the end of every fantastic day, no matter how great my friends are and no matter how good my life is going, I go back to a dark apartment alone. It's so frustrating because I don't know when this grieving process will end. It's been four months and I am no closer to being okay than I was the first week. Every once in awhile I think I'm starting to get on an upswing and then the depression sneaks back in and, lately, it has been raging. It's affecting me in so many ways: headaches, stress, anxiety, crying uncontrollably at the drop of a hat, lack of appetite, breakouts, horrible heartburn, increase in nervous tics, eye spasms, insomnia, inability to do anything but sleep during the day when I should be getting things done around the house, general body aches, blah, blah, blah. In college, I was pretty far gone down a road of self harm and that is just not a place I ever allow myself to go anymore but it's definitely been rough. Losing my boyfriend was horrible but then having to walk away from him as my best friend because it's just too difficult right now is quite literally the most difficult thing I've ever gone through. Part of me really hoped, after I told him, that I'd at least get an apology or that he wouldn't accept it and would fight to keep me in his life. No such luck though.
There are currently three mes vying for constant attention and they all activate one another. First, there is "Hopeful E". She lives in a constant state of optimism with such great ideas as "maybe today is the day he'll call/email/contact me and apologize", "maybe he'll be waiting for me at my apartment when I get home because he's seen the error of his ways", "maybe we'll just happen to run into each other in a city of nearly 3 million people". I know she's foolish and unreasonable but she gives me something to look forward to. That is until she activates "Angry E". She is in a constant state of disgust with the hopeful me and likes to swoop in and remind me how stupid it is to think things like that, that I'm an ass for having feelings, and that it's over and I'm going to be alone forever so I might as well suck it up and deal. As you can imagine, she activates "Weepy E", the pathetic mope-monster that can't stop crying and cannot see the light at the end of the tunnel. Eventually, I get so low that I again trigger hopeful me as a response to cheer me up and the cycle starts all over again and every time, it feels like I find a new low place.
It's maddening and there are no answers and there is no cure. So I get up and walk the dog and make myself breakfast and shower every morning. I go to work 8:30-5 Monday through Friday. I go to class on Tuesday and Thursday nights. I attend archery lessons every Saturday. I go to the gym for yoga, rope rage, spinning, kickboxing, ballet, weight training, and running. I spend time with friends. I cook nice meals. I go out to eat. I buy myself the things that I want and need. I do homework and clean the house. I cuddle the animals and play xbox. I babysit. I have long Doctor Who marathons in the suburbs. Every night I journal, do sit-ups, floss, and meditate. I do everything I can to not sit at home and be alone with the three Es and give into despair and hopelessness. Because that's all you can do. Keep going. And hope. Hope tomorrow will be better, that something will give, that something will change, that you will wake up and finally be okay again.
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