Friends and laughter

I have a long road ahead of me, teaching this new course. Already, I've had some bumps on that road, and will now have to redouble my efforts just to stay on target. I know that this uncertainty about my abilities has played a part in my depression this last month.

For my whole life, I've both judged myself and been judged on what I can do - my worth was always measured by my intelligence. Twisted as it sounds, it was one of the things that allowed me not to care about how I looked: as long as I was "worthy" inside my skin, it really didn't matter what the outside of me looked like. It reinforced my belief that putting emphasis on one's looks made one shallow. I've since achieved a slightly less skewed balance on that viewpoint. Because my self-perceived worth has been challenged this school year, I've dropped into this depression.

Today, I spent the afternoon surrounded by friends at a bridal shower. Tonight, I'll be helping another friend celebrate his upcoming 40th birthday. I'm thinking some friends and laughter will be just what the doctor ordered to drag my out of this.

On the verge

For the last month, I've felt as though I've been constantly on the verge of tears. I usually only get this way a couple of days out of the month - why, hello, Aunt Flo. So miserable to see you. - but this went far beyond those days. This was systemic. It affected my work and my relationships.

I'm familiar with depression and how it feels - like being constantly shoved underwater, unable to surface through the thick barrier of ice above you. I've been there. This is similar.

I've deliberately kept myself busy, attempting to push through the feelings and come out on the other side of this mini-depression. That has failed, colossally. I've tried to smother those feelings in chocolate. That was a major disappointment. I've tried losing myself in the internet. Nope, didn't happen.

So now I have to feel these feelings - and just what am I supposed to do with them?

Enough is as good as a feast

Recently, Mr. Peevish and I adopted a 16-year old.

Not formally, you know. Just, informally, as her mother is having trouble providing some of the basic requirements of parenthood - things like transportation to and from school every day, meals, and emotional support. Her mother, the lawyer, is doing interesting things like locking her child out of the house, not allowing her to eat anything unless she pays for it herself, and refusing to take her child to school every day. So, I've pretty much just adopted the kid.

I pick her up for school every morning and drop her off at one of her two part-time jobs after school. On days when she doesn't work, she comes to our house for dinner and to do her homework on my computer (and to raise her crops on Facebook's Farmtown, but hey, we all play there, right?).

She's a good kid. And I have enough of everything - food, support, time - that I can be generous with what I have. For that, I am thankful. I'm glad that I have the luxury of being able to give to those who need it. I hope that it makes a difference for her.