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One of those days
Aug. 18th, 2003 06:13 amBad, bad day yesterday. One of those days... they come along without any apparent reason and don't look so bad, not right away. But then, suddenly, they reveal their real face and I know that I'm going to be miserable. On these days, I doubt everything--needless to say that I can't write but somehow feel compelled to do just that, and what comes out is a load of drivel, which makes me feel worse. It doesn't happen too often, fortunately, and by now I know exactly what to do: it's absolutely useless to try and persuade myself that everything's just fine etc. It simply doesn't work. The best strategy is to just let myself be, wallow in black thoughts, and sleep a lot. Usually it's over in the evening, sometimes the morning after. Sleep is my panacea for everything, really. I've always pitied those who can't sleep when they have problems. With me, it's the exact contrary. Whenever I feel unaccountably tired, I know there's some unsolved problem lurking in my subconscious. And I never sleep better than when I'm feeling really, really bad.
I wish I knew what triggers those black moods. Janine--who knows me all too well after 20 years of being best friends and very wisely retires, to wait until I come out of my shell, which I did last night at dinner--ventured it might have been because yesterday was my father's birthday. Maybe, although I doubt it. I haven't spoken to my father for a few months, because, after almost 40 years of trying to live up to his expectations and failing, I finally had enough and, one fine Sunday, got up from the table where we were just having lunch and left, slamming the door behind me in every sense. I still see my mother, of course, who, although having made her fair share of mistakes, never was as bad as he. All the same, I doubt the blackness got me yesterday because of him. Then again, strange are the ways of the subconscious. But whatever the reason, it's gone now, and I'm feeling well again.
It's wonderful to see how Lucius, the older cat, is returning to his usual self. When I got Cornelius, two months after him, the two became friends immediately, but Lucius was a bit distant. Snubbed me even, occasionally. For almost two months, he didn't purr when I touched him. He played with Cornelius, but never with me. This morning when I woke up, we had a long, purry cuddling session, and he again loves playing with those bouncy, soft rubber balls. It's funny, actually, because Cornelius, who'd like to play too, has such a terrible squint that he isn't very good at it. So he runs after his big brother instead of after the ball.
I wish I knew what triggers those black moods. Janine--who knows me all too well after 20 years of being best friends and very wisely retires, to wait until I come out of my shell, which I did last night at dinner--ventured it might have been because yesterday was my father's birthday. Maybe, although I doubt it. I haven't spoken to my father for a few months, because, after almost 40 years of trying to live up to his expectations and failing, I finally had enough and, one fine Sunday, got up from the table where we were just having lunch and left, slamming the door behind me in every sense. I still see my mother, of course, who, although having made her fair share of mistakes, never was as bad as he. All the same, I doubt the blackness got me yesterday because of him. Then again, strange are the ways of the subconscious. But whatever the reason, it's gone now, and I'm feeling well again.
It's wonderful to see how Lucius, the older cat, is returning to his usual self. When I got Cornelius, two months after him, the two became friends immediately, but Lucius was a bit distant. Snubbed me even, occasionally. For almost two months, he didn't purr when I touched him. He played with Cornelius, but never with me. This morning when I woke up, we had a long, purry cuddling session, and he again loves playing with those bouncy, soft rubber balls. It's funny, actually, because Cornelius, who'd like to play too, has such a terrible squint that he isn't very good at it. So he runs after his big brother instead of after the ball.
