Another day, another snotfest
I’m having a rough time.
I know, I totally disguised that fact with my cheery, sunshiney attitude. I’m so tricksy.
I’ve been trying to convince myself that because my life may never improve in the ways I want it to (i.e., dozens of roly poly baby bunnies, smashing…or really any kind of…career success), I need to find a way to live it instead of wishing for things I may never have, or experiencing endless anxiety about my job and my general degree of adequacy as a human being. And then I notice how tight my chest is and how tears are welling up in my eyes again, and all the studies I accidentally looked at dealing with links between infertility and stress and depression flash before my eyes and I feel my uterus shrivel up or grow ten foot spikes or something.
I know you can’t help me with this particular problem.
So here’s something you actually can advise on. I need to find a nice way to tell my best friend that she’s going to have to FUCK OFF for a while because I can’t stand thinking about her. (I know, you probably thought you’d never have to hear about this particular relationship again now that she’s moved away. NOPE. Still gonna hear about it.) Though come to think of it, it’s hard to do better than that phrasing. Who wouldn’t react with compassionate in the face of such a request? Only a total monster. But feel free to see if you can do better.