It’s been a rough few weeks. Financial disasters, relational disappointments, antagonism from a coworker, social isolation, doom. There’s not really anyone to talk to, not because of a lack of people who care, but rather a lack of people I feel like talking to. The one person I feel might understand has gone away. I know I’ll slowly work my way through this, but overall I’ve felt like I’m slipping back into that old depression. I’ve spoken with my therapists; we go over practical care & solutions. A whole bunch of things I have no motivation to go through the motions of. I might be back to that kind of life where existence comes down to just taking one step, then taking one more.
What’s interesting is a little bit of self esteem, a little gift, that my mind keeps returning to. I was at a fundraiser; one of those snotty $100-$200 per head dinners all the private school kids go to when they’re grown up. There was a table of whores with their pimp, & I thought one of them was one of the most gorgeous girls I’d ever seen in her elegantly elaborate ballgown. My boyfriend’s best friend had brought a date; a beautiful girl who remembered me from high school. We’d met briefly in 9th grade; she’d only been there a little while, but she recognized me & said hello. We ended up at different tables, but later on my boyfriend told me that she had told his buddy that when we were in 9th grade, I was the only person who was nice to her, & she’d never forgotten it.
I keep thinking about that. Makes me smile. I don’t know what it means, after I’ve saved lives, helped dying to the door, acted with honor in spite of abuse, sacrificed for others. The only thing I remember, to warm myself, is that. I don’t know what it means to only remember that. Why has that become the only thing I’ve got?