Rent Forever
I'm having a hard time.
I feel like I was a really good sport and didn't ruin Christmas by crying or throwing a tantrum or grinching it up and stealing the Christmas tree. I didn't break the ornaments or take the roast beast into the back yard and beat it with a bat Office Space style. I didn't leave frantic voicemails for the contractors whose numbers I'd found online.
Instead I was up all night and then made breakfast, opened gifts nicely, went to the movie even though I'd only managed a few hours of sleep. And it was a nice day, but I kept thinking about how much it sucked this year. I love Christmas and I totally pretended it wasn't happening which is my least healthy coping mechanism. And now I feel guilty and dumb because I couldn't even manage to bake cookies.
And skipping all the stuff I love, and crying too much and not wanting to get out of bed once I do finally go to sleep is alarming in its own way and makes me worry that perhaps I am not managing my depression as well as I'd like.
And I am really, really afraid that all this angst and shaking up my life and stress will have been for naught if we can't buy this house.
We'll see.
