See??  It’s not even a week later and I FEEL SO MUCH BETTER.  A combination of things must have happened:

Hormones less crazy.

I stopped giving so much of a fuck.  Or I gave different fucks.  Not sure.

The sun came out.

Either way, I’m singing songs and laughing and sleeping.  I realize that some of what I am doing at work is pretty futile and no one, I mean NO ONE is holding me up to the set of standards that I myself insist on trying to maintain, so maybe I should just NOT DO THAT.  I also went to see a doctor.  And while this expensive-ass HMO insurance doc seems like 1/2 a step in either direction of a Primacare, I actually did something about how I was feeling.  So…goal?  I mean, we’ll see.

Point being, I was right.  I so rarely am.  It’s refreshing to know that me telling myself “HEY LITTLE CHICKEN YOU WON’T ALWAYS FEEL LIKE THIS, like crawling into a cave and never coming out, like only grunting when other people try to talk to you, like eating All The Food Available…it won’t be forever, Dearest”  – THAT talkback was fucking RIGHT.

So we can chalk this one up to mood swings or whatever, but I think there’s more than one important lesson to learn here:  A, if I can keep telling myself that I’m gonna make it to the other side of whateverthefuck is going on, that is valuable, and 2, this will happen again, and finally, IT’S REALLY OKAY.  It really, truly is.  Whatever that happens to be in each moment.

Breakthrough?  Eh.  It’s hard to see that you’ll ever come out when you are down in it, but I will choose to trust myself next time when I tell myself I will.