i really didn’t want to go to my writer’s group this afternoon. i was crabby, and tired, and really fed-up with my apartment being a national disaster area. i haven’t had the motivation to clean it in ages. i tried a few weekends ago, and only succeeded in making it even worse. i know i’m in a depressed sort of funk. i can feel it. i feel icky and tired all the time. i can’t concentrate on anything. i’ve been eating like crap, which makes me feel even worse. it’s a bad cycle.

ice was falling from the sky, making travel potentially deadly, and, worst of all, i didn’t do my assignment. yes, we have assignments in writing group.

but i went, and i am so glad for it that i could weep. as soon as i walked in, Smel asked me how i was.

“crabby and bitchy,” i said.

then i spilled it all. i talked about how this might be my last week of work. how i’ve been obsessing about this impending layoff since october and how i’m not sure how i’m going to handle it– if it happens or if it doesn’t happen. both will be equally shocking. it’s been a wretched few months.

“i just feel like my life’s been on hold since october,” i said. “i feel like i can’t do anything until they decide something.”
“you cannot live your life like that,” Smel said. which, of course, makes perfect sense.

then damon and smel, being the amazing friends that they are talked to me about it. it was fabulous. sometimes you need the voice of reason from people that know you well. i get all choked up just typing about. not just because they were so helpful, but because i even talked about it. i’m not really so hot with the sharing of my life. which, i know sounds funny, but it’s true.

and while i’m still absolutely terrified by what this week might or might not bring, i feel better having just talked about it.