As I was making my way home last night I realised that I was turning into the
friendless kind of person whom even I wouldn't have the compassion to want to befriend.
Petulant, whining, passive,
self-pitying.
This came on top of the realisation made the previous evening, that I was very likely on my way into another depressive episode. All the symptoms were here - decreased social skills, social paranoia, lack of energy, failure to communicate my feelings to husband/friends, self-loathing (in the form of a vigorous diet this time around).
I am grateful almost to tears, now, to the people who gave me the tools to see these things coming. To take them apart and look at the mechanics, not fearfully and passively like a sick person, but with intention to resolve and confidence, like a healer.
I healed myself, yesterday - well, patched myself up, anyway. Had a long hot shower and gave myself a stern talking to. Pointed out and verbilised in my head all the good things ahead, and all the sly little tricks my depression is playing on me to make me dread instead of aticipate them. Took great care while dressing, put more makeup and with more relish on than for weeks until now, and went out to face the world of social capability.
I had a lovely time. I made people laugh. I laughed and danced and drank and charmed myself. This morning I looked at myself in the mirror with something like affection, and allowed myself a chocolate bar as a token to my body not being a hideous slushy blimp.
I'll get over this bump in my road - I know now that I can, if I want to. Just that knowledge alone makes me so deliriously happy that no trace of depression can possibly remain.