Thursday after school I stopped by Whole Foods to pick up some veggies. We’d literally had no fresh produce for over a week in my house, and it was driving me crazy with cravings…for yes, salad. So I stocked up on a huge bin of baby spinach, two types of kale, heirloom tomatoes, yellow onions, bell peppers, yams, blueberries, bananas, apples, and a few non-produce items.
While the produce is entirely real, the flowers are entirely fake.
Super yummy salad comprised of the aforementioned produce.
Although I was super excited about my groceries, I can’t say the feeling was mutual. Two of my coworkers told me that “I had no life” because I was there, that I should only really shop after work.
Honestly, after work, I have no inclination to go shopping. The first thing I want to do after work is sit down, and eat. Not shop. I actually enjoy grocery shopping, and would rather shop when I’m not exhausted. And I do have a life. When people make comments like that, I just want to scream, “You don’t know me.” That phrase may or may not be followed with a ghettoized bitch. But really, they don’t. They don’t know me. They have no reason to judge me.
I felt this way repeatedly throughout the weekend/yesterday. Too many sarcastic comments at work. Too many, “You look like you’re twelves.” Too many pairs of judging eyes at yesterday’s dance audition, to which I arrived late. First audition ever, after battling Lancaster Ave and a tumult of conflicting thoughts. Also, after not seriously dancing for over three years.
I bombed the ballet section, and every combination coming from the left side of the room. No recovery, just the feeling of being absolutely lost. Stupid, insignificant. Lesser, the worst. It does not feel good. During the interview, to the cold, hard faces in front of me. “And you were at Temple for…how many years?”
You don’t know me, you do not know anything that I’ve been through. But, please, judge away.
I know that a lot of my negativity can be attributed to the lack of consistent medication. I skimped, not meaning to, for the past few days on taking my Celexa. Mostly due to the weirdness of the weekend, and my arrival home last night to a pitch-black, nearly vacant, powerless house. And I never think that it will affect me so much. Considering yesterday, however, I realize that I was in a fog of unexplainable, unchanging sadness. I wasn’t myself. And today I wonder, Do I really need medication to make me feel normal? Or is this listless gloom my true normal? Either way, I know I’m better off with the medication. Despite how much I’ve fought it over the years, it has helped. It’s kept me stable. Sane, or at least a semblance of the word.
Sometimes I think that I feel more when I’m off the meds. Most of those feelings, though, are 100% negative. So are they really worth it? Is it worth it to be depressed, when I have the option to feel content? I don’t think so. Tonight, I will swallow, and sleep, and rest my sore limbs.
Tomorrow can be, and hopefully will be, better.