Tears Of A Clown

Here's another post where I remind you that I suffer from (seasonal, situational, PMS-related, etc) depression. Where I wake up thinking "UGH. Another day." and then feel guilty because so many others didn't get this gift. Where I crumble in the face of every thing (and every one) for which (and whom) I'm responsible, and then remind myself that people everywhere have "lots to do." Where I try to understand why I feel so shitty, and then diminish my own reality by labeling myself as hormonal or whiny or lazy.

And I understand that somewhere, a family probably just lost their home, and maybe the kids have to be sent to live with family or strangers or worse- in the alley with their parents. Somewhere, someone was diagnosed with Stage 4 something-or-other, or has to wait for someone else to die in order to get a life-saving organ transplant. Someone just lost a parent/child/spouse, and someone's HIV cocktail has stopped working. Someone just got slapped across the face for just looking at their spouse wrong, and someone was just stabbed for the $12 in their wallet. And none of those things apply to me.

But I also know that my troubles and sadness and stresses and pressures are still very real to me, and I can't keep living under the It Can Always Be Worse regime because honestly, this is already bad all on its own.

So here's another post where I come off as crying out for help but really I'm not, so I close the comments because I just wanted to get some things out of my head, and I really don't care for feedback- good or bad. This blog is my chosen form of therapy and I just want a(nother) day to cry into my pillow in peace.



If I get a(nother) tomorrow, I'll work harder to feel better.

*smooches...giving in to the tears, just today*
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and maybe tomorrow, but I haven't decided on that yet.