I was waiting for a bus and none came by for like forty-five minutes. Something about this really shook me up. I was sure there had been another terrorist attack or something. In hindsight it was ridiculous especially given other buses passed by in that period, just not mine. But I have this thing about people not showing up when I expect them to.
This goes back not only to knowing people my age who have died, but also to an incident when I was six when I ended up at the bottom of a mall escalator while my mum was at the top. This was an average, not at all negligent or anything moment in suburbia... but it happened at a young age, and for whatever reason it meant that I've always been antsy about unexpected delays. If you tell me we will meet at Starbucks at 3 PM and you don't show up until 3:15 I will assume you've been in some sort of accident getting there, not that you were just late getting out the door. I can be patient if I know to expect it, but having someone be late even by 5-10 minutes without expecting it... it is majorly anxiety-forming. The last several years hasn't helped matters, nor does the fact that I used to volunteer around kids with bad cancers (I'm taking some time off). I think given the 9/11 anniversary also pushed me to that conclusion, too.
Whatever the reason it didn't make for a good day. I was physically exhausted from the lack of seats on both the bus + train, and sweaty and generally none too happy. Also feeling stressed from being all panicky and clingy, and ticked off at myself for getting this upset over a late bus. I was also late for my hour on the couch, which is every bit as draining as occlumency lessons under the best of circumstances. And the fact that a late bus isn't the kind of thing that should have thrown me for a tailspin was in itself alienating; it just makes me feel so *different* (and not in a good way) from other people! By the time I got to therapy, when I banged my elbow on the wall, I just had to laugh and couldn't stop for a good bit. It's one of those days, I think.
I finally make it home and log in to FB for some zone-out time, and I stumble across this news story right away, about a tattoo Chris Brown got resembling a woman's skull bashed in. (Note, it was triggerish for me, so people with any kind of experience with DV, caveat emptor.) I don't blame the person who posted it; it was a reasonable story to get out there on an important topic. But today of all days... well, this is just one tough thing too many for today, I think.
It's not just the specific bad stuff, I don't think. When I get down I get really down. I keep thinking about that Marine friend I mentioned last night who died in Iraq, the way he loved to sing counter harmonies to old protest songs as we walked around campus at UNCG, and about Bear (my dog), and about this one kid I knew at the hospital who still had missing teeth and that had these little round ears stuck out, the way he looked about eight when he smiled.
And that's the sum total of my day. Nothing fun that I can remember. Certainly no productive work done since I left my apartment at around noon. I think I'm just going to turn off the lights and listen to Simon + Garfunkel, and probably make an early night of it.
Thanks for reading, btw; I know this is hardly upbeat stuff.