Good Day

Dear Therapist,

I know that I strongly implied that an explanation about the name of my blog was coming. It’s not this session though. Keep holding your breath wherever you are. I really thought it was important, more important than obscure pop culture references, to tell you that I did the dishes. All of them – including the dish with cake crusted onto it, which on principle is usually ignored and avoided.

I know for certain the last time I did dishes was March 10th. I was a little toasted from day drinking, but tried to get them done before my friend came over to make truffles with me. That’s also the last time I cleaned my apartment. My motivation to clean my whole apartment at once is directly related to impending socialization within my home.

Obviously, I didn’t do the dishes right away. I’m not one to waste effort on cleaning a couple of dishes at a time. Dishes aren’t my favorite chore, so I’d rather do them once a week, rather than every day, otherwise I’d feel like I’m doing dishes all of the time. Only, I didn’t do them after a week. I let them sit. Worse than that, I let them stink. I had a huge mixing bowl from making truffles. It was filled with stagnant water and food particles. Bacteria was alive a well. It smelled like spoiled food whenever I stood too close to the sink, which was every morning when I made myself a cup of coffee.

I’m not a dirty person. I watch those hoarder shows and wonder how it gets that far. I’m not excessive, but I keep it clean and tidy on a regular basis. But, I’ve also been sunk with depression. It’s been bone deep – the sort of depression you only hear about from other people while you think to yourself, “Is that even real? I’m glad my depression isn’t that bad.” I’ve slept for half the week. My productivity at work has been in shambles. It was dangerous and for a moment scary, but today I did the dishes.

I don’t know if I’m naturally coming out of the down swing into an upswing of emotion. As I grow older, I don’t actually think I have the strength of character or the mental stability involved in pulling myself up by my bootstraps. I guess we can’t discount anything, still… I’m going to count it as a good day though. I went outside. I got a haircut. My stylist and I are planning on dying part of my hair turquoise and green. Mostly, he needs a willing body and I’m a sucker for both hair dye and turquoise. And I washed those nasty dishes. It was a full dish washing session: the dishes are clean, counters cleared off, and bits of trash that had been accumulating were thrown away.

I wanted to start off my first official letter telling you that good days happen. Even though I’m still feeling pulled down and tired, good days exist. it’s really easy to focus on the bad. I want to talk all about what’s wrong with me. I want to try and figure out everything I’m doing wrong so that I can stop doing it and never have to feel this way ever again. I fall into the negative spiral downwards ALL of the time.

But, Christ, just for my own sanity, I want to at least acknowledge the good in my life. I need to remember what good days are, and that I have them. They aren’t ambiguous hopes in the future or figments of my imagination that could happen to me if I find a way to not be me. I would like to both know that my life – like everyone else’s – contains the full spectrum of human emotion. I’m not trying to cut out the bad and insert only the good. I’m just trying to shift the balance so that the good is in the forefront and the bad is tolerated in small occasional doses between large moments of good. I could be hoping for too much, but since you aren’t saying anything, I’m going to take that as your tacit agreement that I’m right, you support me, and you secretly think I’m awesome.

Well, I think our time’s up for today. I’ll catch you next session.




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