I just took two of my sleeping pills since I’ve been in bed for over 2 hours and have yet to shut off my brain. I am tired, physically. The flesh is willing - the spirit, however, is not willing to cede control of corporeal command.

I’m also peeved. This whole “insomnia as a symptom of depression” thing is getting really old. All it does is provide me with additional time during which I can get angry at myself for things I can’t possibly change at 11:49 on a Sunday night. Things like losing weight and finding happiness. If I could find a way to make either one of these possible instantaneously at 11:48 on a Sunday night, I’d be wealthy and famous beyond my wildest dreams.

There’s sort of a disconnect. During a conversation earlier this week, a friend told me that I wear my self-loathing like a badge and that people can sense it. I didn’t reply to that then, but I’ve been thinking about it. I don’t think I harbor feelings of self-loathing generally. As a matter of fact, I think I have an almost unhealthy degree of self-love, in terms of thinking that I’m pretty great. Sure, there are things I’d like to change, but I have a strong sense of my own value for myself. When depression hits, it’s like I have this “other” sense of self that wears the badge of self-loathing and calls all the other feelings into doubt and question. I no longer have the confidence and strong sense of personal value because I begin to doubt whether other people in my life share the sense of valuing me as a person/friend/etc.

While I might normally feel fierce and lovely by putting on a pair of high-heeled shoes and doing my nails, Depression prevents me from feeling great even if I was a size 6 beauty queen wearing high-heeled shoes and a perfect manicure.

Maybe this is an excuse. I don’t know. I just know that there’s definitely a different feeling and sensation and thought process in place when I’m depressed and that I don’t normally walk around hating myself. I normally walk around a little pompous and narcissistic, but also as my own worst critic because I am aiming for perfection.

After having that conversation with my friend last week, we spoke on the phone for a while and had a good “bad” conversation. “Bad” in that I think we were both afraid of the things we needed to talk about (in terms of my mental state and how it affects our friendship) and good in that it all turned out OK.

That night, I had a chock-full-o-symbolism dream. It involved nudity, but nothing sexual. I won’t spell it out in detail lest I sound like I’m trying to turn it into something sexual, but basically, I was naked, it was a non-issue, and conversation and laughter ensued. It meant to me that I could be totally honest (more so than I already am), exposed, not afraid to say things, not embarrassed or feel like a burden, and that it would be OK, and that I would still have my friend’s support (and friendship) in the end. Not terribly deep, I know… but it’s nice when even your subconscious gets in on the “everything is going to be OK” action… if only in terms of one friendship. That can be the most important thing in the low periods; knowing that there is a safe harbor.

And yet, I am sobered by the idea that I can’t allow myself to become reliant or dependent upon this friendship because that’s not fair to either party. I sort of have to view it as a “safety net” - knowing that it’s there is good, but I shouldn’t make a habit of falling into it all the time or I’ll never learn anything. Also, if you fall into a net too often, and from great heights, you will eventually wear or expose holes in the net.

My wrist has been hurting me tremendously all weekend. The only thing I can think would be affecting it is the weather - changes in temperature and humidity. Oh, well. Doctor on Thursday.

Today, my father asked me if I’d have to wear my wrist brace while on vacation in Tunisia - “it’s sort of ugly.” I resisted the impulse to snap back with something horribly rude. Instead, I opted for humor and told him that I was looking forward to the awesome tanline I’d have on this arm as a result of wearing the brace, and that, yes, I would have to wear the brace - even in Tunisia - since I won’t have surgery (if that ends up being necessary, as I think it will) until after we return from vacation.

I love that his main concern is my esthetic presentation while on vacation rather than a concern for my physical well-being, pain or health.

Whatever. I wish these damn pills would kick in so I could sleep already. I don’t want to be groggy in the morning and I can’t miss the train. I mean, I can - but it would be stupid to do so.