I had a really bad day yesterday. I was in a depressive dip that got downright scary for awhile. I had to ride it out and felt like I could barely hold on, literally or figuratively. It was very unpleasant.
This morning I awoke and didn't feel that complete horror show that was yesterday, and my husband encouraged me to do my volunteering at my kids' school as I was scheduled to, even though it was one of the last things I felt like doing--getting all gung-ho and going to teach drama on a snowy day when it would be so much easier to stay in bed all day with the covers over my head, willing away my negative thoughts or obliviating them with marathon watching of "The Office", which I find oddly soothing when I'm having an episode.
What's the point here? It's that I went. I got up, got dressed, put on my face in both senses, and went in. Did I enjoy it? Not really. I'm in severe anhedonia at the moment, so nothing is fun or not fun, it's just there. But I made it through, and actually smiled a little bit and did some good for the kids who had managed to make it to school during a low level snowstorm.
My brain chemistry is still jacked up pretty seriously but I feel better than I did yesterday, when I stayed in the house all day, freaking out.
So going out today in spite of myself was better than nothing. Something is always better than nothing. I've just got to remember that.
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