I've written before about my depression, that scary other part of me that I try to keep squelched down. Every now and then it gets the best of me.
One of V's summer classes ends tomorrow. We haven't been very good at keeping up with it, and so there's enough homework to probably take from now until class starts tomorrow to complete. A friend is visiting starting tomorrow; the house is a disaster and smells like cat shit. I'm PMSing like nobody's business.
I was supposed to watch Seth and Isabella tonight. On my way out the door (literally), I dissolved into an emotional mess. Wracking sobs, gasping breaths. Irrational sentences: I said something about wanting to get sick so I could just lie on the couch and eat toast, but somehow that turned into me wailing "I just want toast!"
Being an adult is hard. Worrying about money, school assignments, multiple jobs, and the future takes its toll. I told V this felt like mental car wreck. If I got in a physical car wreck, no one would expect me to keep functioning immediately as if nothing had happened. The car accident in my brain was just as bad, but not visible.
V texted Seth and Isabella's mom for me. I don't know what she said. I ended up falling asleep on the couch, when I asked for five minutes to try my hardest not to stress about anything. She gave me more than five minutes, of course; she had my phone, and somehow, I'm not babysitting right now. I don't want to know what she said. Thankfully, I've actually talked to their mom about depression before.
I'm still trying not to feel guilty. Not feel guilty for failing. Guilty for not performing all my responsibilities perfectly. Guilty for being human. That damn guilt has been chasing me for a decade now.