Saturday, December 19, 2009


Work was decent, though I'm still struggling a bit with the "this is a teenager job" issue.

Came home and got sucked into the $*&^ cable instead of doing what I needed to.

Got into a family-wide fight over some firewood that didn't get picked up. That's a long story that I don't really want to go into, but what I do want to go into is that I am so completely sick out of my mind of wanting to die every time something goes wrong. I'm not trying to be dramatic. I don't want to be dramatic. But do you remember when you were little and you were told that the way to memorize something is to do or say or sing it over and over, so that the path gets worn down in your head? So that it's easier to go there, to remember? I never wanted to do that with this, but the fact remains that the path to "life's not worth the effort" or "dying would be such a relief" or "I can't handle this; I can't handle anything" is worn down. It's like a rut that I'm driving alongside, and every time I hit a bump in the road I fall straight into it. It's so worn down that I can go from 60 to 0 in about 2 seconds, any time I let my guard down, any time I get too tired or stressed, any time something goes wrong, catches me by surprise, hits a nerve. It's hard not to feel like my long-term chances of survival drop every time.

After I finished the bout of hysterical crying and suicidal episode that followed said family-wide fight, I talked to Sara on the phone for a little while (actually, that wasn't really after, but toward the end, but whatever) I went and helped my family pick up the last of the stupid firewood, then drove through the snow to Sara's for Hannukah. I was (and absolutely still am) feeling a little weak and low and fragile, but for the most part it was fun. Ami was there and it was great to see her, and it was fun to be with Sara and Eva and Brian and others, but I'm just so tired, all around. I left to drive home in the then 4 or so inches of snow, about 5 or 10 minutes before Chloe texted me to say not to try to come home. I made it, but it wasn't much fun.

David left from Front Royal around 8:30. He's now about 40 miles from here in his little tiny car in stop and go traffic, and we have 8 or so inches of snow on our back porch. I was going crazy crazy until he finally texted me and let me know he was alive and in traffic, maybe 40 minutes ago. I was afraid he was broken down or dead or still up above Fredericksburg, and that if I called or texted him he might crash or slide off the road, and that if he did, he would die and I would never forgive myself. So the text was a big relief. Anyway, we're making plans to hike out to him if he gets stuck coming off the interstate. Good times.

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