“Don’t think about the past, it will make you sad.  Don’t think about the future, it will make you scared.  Think about right now.  Right now you have peace, so there is no reason you cannot end this day happy.”

This is what the priest said to me in confession yesterday.  I made it out of there before I started bawling.

The last couple of days have had some social events with people I don’t really know.  Two friends have turned 30, one on Friday and one yesterday, and at both parties I was there with people I either had never met or didn’t know very well.  I’m not even totally comfortable with people I have known for years, so strangers (relative or complete) are pretty much a no-go for me.  I don’t do “meeting new people.”  But that felt to selfish in light of “it’s my birthday!”

I think that the strain of doing something thing that makes me uncomfortable is what got me to confession.  I’m not a big confession go-er.  Actually I kind of avoid it like the plague.  But, it was fairly easy yesterday to just make it part of the schedule: sandwich some discomfort between some other discomfort.

Part of why I don’t dig meeting new people, and sometimes really pity my friends, is that I don’t consider myself a “happy” person.  I kind of gave up a long time ago thinking that I would ever be anything other than serious and bitchy.  I’m not lighthearted or fun.  So meeting new people is kind of torturous because I know that they’re going to figure out really soon that I’m a total bummer who thinks too much about the decline of civilization and the crippling effects of societal irresponsibility.  I’m probably the only person who is genuinely interested to hear people talk (talk, not brag) about their job, because I want to know what people are doing with their lives, and their attitudes about it tell me so much about their moral understanding of the world.

So, yeah, if you want someone to clear out a room, invite me to your party.

I’m naturally combative, not naturally peaceful.  And that makes me despair of ever being socially graceful and fun to be around.

But with what Father said yesterday, I’m wondering if I might have things backwards.  Maybe it isn’t that happiness will bring me peace, maybe it’s that peace will bring me happiness.  And then maybe I would be a little bit less of a downer.

I should probably get this sorted before my friends stop inviting me to events.

(1 Year, 9 Months, and 8 Days Sober)

I’d love to say that I haven’t been writing because I’ve been out having so much fun that I couldn’t possibly sit down for even a second to let everyone know that I’m alright.  I really truly wish I could say that.  I can’t.  That is actually the opposite of what I’ve been doing for the last three weeks.

For the last three weeks I have been working my ass off.  And then sleeping like the dead.

Let me explain.

I was more depressed than I thought.

During January, I think it’s fair to say I hadn’t been really on top of my game.  And I wasn’t really doing such a hot job before that either.  I wanted it to be not as big a deal as it turned out to be.  I wanted to say that things were just “a little tough” or “kind of tiring.”  But I was crawling into myself.  I was avoiding people.  I was sleeping ALL the fucking time.  I wasn’t taking care of myself.  I wasn’t going to church.  I wasn’t eating properly.  I wasn’t grading or prepping.  I could see things starting to fall apart around me, but nothing seemed urgent enough to get me to fix things.  I just kept repeating to myself that it was small stuff, not the end of the world.

And so everything felt dismal and boring and out to get me.  Everyone seemed to be in on the conspiracy to piss me off.  Even total strangers on the bus had gotten the memo on just the kind of behavior that would make me regret venturing outside of my bedroom.  When you already want to think that no one is being sensitive to what you’re going through there is no lack of evidence for the callousness and disinterest of others.

But with more speed and less drama than in the past, these feelings passed.  God gave me a few gentle nudges; simple reminders that I am only alone if I choose to be, that what I have been entrusted to care for I must care for, and that my presence is required in my own life.  For so long the only thing that could wake me up out of depression was an urgent and painful (and metaphorical) punch in the face.  But not this time.

That doesn’t mean that it’s been a smooth ride for the last three weeks.  Once I actually was able to see just what had piled up in my mental/emotional absence, I was immediately overwhelmed.  But, with God’s help and a lot of encouragement from friends and family, I’ve gotten through the months of grading that accumulated, I’ve kept up with laundry/bills/groceries/etc, and I’ve actually had contact with other human beings. Every couple hours or so, when my back hurts and my head is pounding and I want to cry because I think the work will never end, I have to stop and remind myself that everything is not hopeless.  It means that I have to ask for the help just to ask for the help to get through what’s in front of me.

But I think that maybe this week I can relax a little.  Things seem to be where they need to be, and maybe I can spend some time with myself, or with friends.  Lent begins this week, so maybe I can take the time to commit to some serious work on my relationship with God, and through that my relationship with the rest of the world.

Or maybe I’ll just watch a shedload of movies.

(1 Year, 4 Months, and 20 Days Sober)