Thursday, January 31, 2013


I understand the mentality of a hermit.  Some days I wish I was one.  Some days I essentially AM one.

I have been feeling infinitely better mood-wise the past couple of years - for which I am SO grateful.  Especially compared to the first few years we had our son.  And even much better than before I was married.  So when I have a bad day now, instead of being status quo, it surprises me. 

Yesterday was a bad day.  Not all day.  When I was alone during the day I was fine.  I was okay with my husband and son after work and school.  At the library in the morning, the screaming kid threw me a bit.  But not a lot.  The computer giving me the blue screen of death in the afternoon set me on edge but didn't sink me.

And then last night I had to go to choir.  Choir is an interesting conundrum to me.  I LOVE singing.  I love to harmonize and I really love the women in the choir.  And I think they like me.  But when I'm "off", when my mood is not right, choir can be a horrible.

Choir has been a struggle for the past 3 weeks.  Maybe it's because the person I felt closest to at choir has had to take a leave of absence due to family problems.  I miss her.  As it turns out, she was a bit of a rock for me - she and I have similar emotional issues, and she sees when I'm struggling and is so supportive.  (I hope I was supportive to her, too ... but I doubt it.)  Since she has gone, I realize how much I relied on her to feel like part of the group.  Last night I just felt left out.  And I don't think I normally feel that way.  But I was very sad and feeling like an exposed nerve last night.  And it's kinda carrying on into the morning ... but today I'm the hermit, so can can hide.

I HATE feeling this way.  And when I feel this way, my automatic reaction is to look outside of myself and see who or what is making me feel like this.  Which is false.  Because no one is making me feel like this.  It's just chemistry.  Or maybe energy.  Or both.

Here's the thing:  a hermit can just putter away alone in a cave and not have to interact with people.  It is in the interaction, when I feel like this, that the pain occurs.  Someone can say something with a bit of a bite or a snark, and it strikes to the core of my being.  I realize that this is temporary, because I understand this mood disorder I live with.  However, that realization makes neither the pain nor the irrational thought go away. 

The people I really feel sorry for are those who have similar or worse emotional disorders or mental illness who do not realize it.  Who don't understand why they feel the way they do and lash out at the people around them.  And I feel sorry for the people they lash out at.  (And if I have a weak moment and lash out, I feel ever so bad for my behaviour). 

THAT, my dear readers, is why mental health awareness is so important.  We need to understand that people aren't necessarily assholes.  They may be ill, they may be struggling, hell, they may have just had a bad day themselves.  It's not you, and it's not necessarily them.  So we need compassion and love to deal with others. 

Myself ... well, I try to be loving and compassionate as much as I can.  It's not all the time, but I'm working on it. 

But the life of a hermit, on certain days, does seem appealing.

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