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I'm currently going through one of the shitty parts of medicated depression: a downward spiral of hurt and feeling guilty for being hurt. It kind of fucking sucks. Hold that. There's no 'kind of' here, it REALLY fucking sucks. I'm allowed to feel hurt AND I'm allowed to react to being hurt.
And if part of that reaction is to withdraw for a couple of days until I'm done licking my wounds, then why the fuck do I feel so guilty about it?
Friends A&B went to a movie on Sunday. As we weren't gaming, and it's a movie that you couldn't pay me enough to see, it's not an issue. EXCEPT, the reason why we weren't gaming? Friend B didn't want to risk being exposed to whatever virus I've got going on here for [reasons] - Paul is almost over a nasty cold and I have a kid in public school, also getting over something.
I am not sick; tired, depressed, and chronic post-nasal drip don't count. I highly doubt I'm even contagious. But going to the movie theatre, where there are lots of people in various states of diseased/contagious is okay.
I don't care that they went to the movies without me. I don't care that they saw something I have zero interest in. I care that I feel like I was dumped at the side of the road like a leaking bag of garbage. I care that I feel like I'm not wanted or a burden or in the way. I care about the thoughtless hypocrisy of not wanting to get sick by going somewhere so public.
And yet, knowing this, I'm not consumed with anger or rage, although there is anger. I'm sad. I'm hurting. I don't feel particularly wanted. I also have a tremendous amount of guilt for feeling like this, which is triggering some 'fun' anxiety reactions.
Paul, though, has been really good about this. He had a little something to give me for when I needed a pick-me-up and I can't stop wearing it. He's also not chiding me for turning off my phone or putting away my laptop. I'm also shutting off comments to this post because I don't think I can handle kindness right now.
And if part of that reaction is to withdraw for a couple of days until I'm done licking my wounds, then why the fuck do I feel so guilty about it?
Friends A&B went to a movie on Sunday. As we weren't gaming, and it's a movie that you couldn't pay me enough to see, it's not an issue. EXCEPT, the reason why we weren't gaming? Friend B didn't want to risk being exposed to whatever virus I've got going on here for [reasons] - Paul is almost over a nasty cold and I have a kid in public school, also getting over something.
I am not sick; tired, depressed, and chronic post-nasal drip don't count. I highly doubt I'm even contagious. But going to the movie theatre, where there are lots of people in various states of diseased/contagious is okay.
I don't care that they went to the movies without me. I don't care that they saw something I have zero interest in. I care that I feel like I was dumped at the side of the road like a leaking bag of garbage. I care that I feel like I'm not wanted or a burden or in the way. I care about the thoughtless hypocrisy of not wanting to get sick by going somewhere so public.
And yet, knowing this, I'm not consumed with anger or rage, although there is anger. I'm sad. I'm hurting. I don't feel particularly wanted. I also have a tremendous amount of guilt for feeling like this, which is triggering some 'fun' anxiety reactions.
Paul, though, has been really good about this. He had a little something to give me for when I needed a pick-me-up and I can't stop wearing it. He's also not chiding me for turning off my phone or putting away my laptop. I'm also shutting off comments to this post because I don't think I can handle kindness right now.