10:12 am - Thursday, May. 16, 2002
birthday blues

I feel myself wanting not to write in here...

My birthday was yesterday. Another one come and gone, without a whole lot of hoopla.

Attention was paid, mind you--I got some calls and e-mails--but it didn't seem to put much of a dent in the fact that I was, when it came down to it, alone on this theoretically "special day".

I was actually thinking I might get through this one relatively unscathed--It didn't seem like I was obsessing over it as much as I typically do leading up to the day--and was on the verge of giving myself a mental "pat on the back" for having finally "grown up", when by mid-afternoon, the bottom pretty much fell out, emotionally speaking.

What happened? I don't really know. I think my "plan", such as it was (To "show myself a good time", basically, credit card debt be damned), kind of started falling apart my mid-afternoon, when I felt my energy and interest in the project start to fade.

And something I would have thought I wanted, which was to have communication with actual people on my birthday, people who like me and all that, ended up throwing me even deeper into my dark blue funk; I chatted with Lauren, then talked on the phone with Mark and Jane, and ended this "people contact" so depressed, for some reason, that I almost started to cry as I was walking down the street afterwards.

I don't know...I guess maybe it emphasized, in some strange way, how far away they were.

And I realized how deeply depressed I'd become, because I suddenly had this powerful urge to drink (To the uninitiated, I discovered some time back that when I have the urge to get truly wasted, that means I'm dying to have an excuse to vent my sadness/anger/whatever it may be).

But I didn't drink. Because I can't claim to be ignorant about what I'm doing anymore. And I didn't want to put Jane through that (I would undoubtedly have ended up calling her). And it's been so long since I have gotten really drunk that the hangover would no doubt kill me.

And it's just a birthday. One day in a year, then it's over. It's not as if I haven't dealt with this before.

And my sadness, my weakness, made me angry with myself, as it often does.

To be honest? I'm still sad. And I'm still angry.

I'd planned to go to Sizzler in the evening--I've wanted a steak for quite some time, and this seemed like the night to indulge myself--but I wasn't really hungry when the time came (Even so, I actually went to the restaurant and got in the door, before realizing that my heart was really not in it--I'd eaten out for breakfast and lunch, and wasn't really up for another meal alone--and I left. I ended up going to the grocery store, buying over $10 worth of junk food, which I ate throughout the evening, while I watched Ed and The West Wing).

I didn't want to write this. I feel stupid for being so down. I don't even really understand it.

Am I really never going to just get used to this?

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