"what's a crocus" and you said "it's a flower". I tried to remember, but I said "what's a flower?" you said "I still love you"

Very, very disjointed (and whiny) post ahead...

All day I've been wrestling with the snow, whether it's trying to park in it and having my wheels spin under me, or not dressing warmly enough for it, or dealing with the repercussions of the approaching storm. The Handel Chandos Anthem has been canceled for this Sunday because Bryce has decided turnout wouldn't be as good as he had hoped, and also he felt it was unfair to ask all the instrumentalists to come into town under such weather conditions. I guess I understand, but honestly I'm disappointed. And Dad flew all the way out here to see it. *sigh* So that sucks. Today sucks, actually. This morning I compiled and turned in my poetry portfolio for my final, and then went over to Kate's briefly where I rehearsed the Handel downstairs while she showered and puttered about upstairs, and then went into work. But throughout it all, there was that loneliness. Really, it was like a person following me, watching me go about my day and waiting for the right moment to pounce and cling like an over-sized backpack. It came in the middle of Dinner service, just as Dad sat down in my section and I gripped my phone in my apron and Sandeesh presented me with the two cappuccinos I'd begged him to make for me (I honestly cannot make foam to save my life). At that moment, It came and it sat so heavily on my shoulders that I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me.

I feel, lately, as though I don't have any place in the world. I'm struck sometimes by the kind of displacement and anxiety and uselessness that makes me curl and wince at every word that comes my way. I don't know how to receive questions that are asked of me, don't know how to handle simple tasks because my motor skills have left my hands. This is just sometimes, and less often since the medication, but man oh man, this coming home at night, this little heartbeat in medford, this very quiet snow-slick street... This, the way This feels is not tolerable. If I believed the rest of my life would feel like this, I would likely combust. As though I have any idea what that would look like. I'm trying to tolerate living my life when I'm alone. Plus I'm out of Golden Raisins which really doesn't make my trail-mix situation easy. I should call Emma. I wish this were easier.

By the way I have 10 months.

Tomorrow I've promised my body a 9am yoga class (I may opt for the 11 o'clock one becauese I'd love to sleep in, but that wouldn't work so well with Dad's schedule, because he's running in the morning), followed by breakfast with Dad and then I'll head back to the restaurant to work the tea shift. I would have been rehearsing 9-4 if the Handel hadn't been canceled. Man that's disappointing. Then Dinner with dad tomorrow night, he's requested "somewhere simple". It'll be just he and I, as Kate and Eric are in NY this weekend to support Emma while she tests for her black belt.

Sometimes when I think of people other than Mum and Dad reading this, like Joanna or Annie, or Grandpa Allan, I feel embarrassed for being so blunt. Or raw I guess is a better word. Or I suppose I don't so much mind the bluntness, but I realize that these are people I respect and love and admire, and when I talk about depression like this, I'm definitely not portraying myself as I'd like those people to see me. I think the great hope is that I say something that strikes a chord with someone else, and so the great reaction is not "oh Mollie you really need some help, girl", or "Pull it together please" or "ew", but rather "oh...I've felt that". Or maybe they're just send me up a quick prayer.

*big sigh*

I'm going to bed without brushing my teeth. There's my act of defiance for the day. I feel pathetic. Oh, heh, and lonely.