I wonder if my impending anniversary affects me the same way my impending birthday always does.
Because, god, I am so fucking depressed.
I was looking back at my posts from last August and I was feeling this way last year at this time too. In fact, it was this post that caused Patrick to e-mail me his phone number and jump started our friendship.
I was alone then, but I'm not alone now. I look at my fellow military wife bloggers and many of their husbands are deployed. They have so much more to be depressed about but they're holding it together just fine. But me?
Well, I guess I'm holding it together on the surface too. I'm starting to get my head above water on the day-to-day stuff. But I feel an overwhelming hatred for myself right now and I just can't shake it.
I feel like I can't do anything right. I don't return my friends' phone calls. I don't return e-mails that I really should. And oh god! I went to a room mothers' meeting yesterday and I couldn't have felt more out of place or, well, dorky. Those women were so snotty. And they wouldn't shut up no matter who was trying to speak.
I'm skipping the squadron wives' coffee tonight because I just can't bring myself to go. I never skip out on these things. But I'm too fat, shy, and socially awkward to be out in public right now.
Ah. What a pity post! Yeah, poor me. I hate when I write like this.
But the thing is, I have to let this out somewhere, and better on the blog than on my friends and family. Because when I spew in person, it ain't pretty. Right, boys? And I wouldn't want to get any on ya.
Be good, you guys. Take care of one another.