Nothing in particular happened. Nothing was necessarily bad or difficult or anything of the sort.
It was just a hard day.
I struggled emotionally. I wanted to cry every five minutes. I got away to the beach for lunch and I just wanted to sit there for the rest of the day. Depression had truly set in.
Of course, I couldn’t. It wasn’t practical. It wasn’t the expectation, or the obligation I had made to my job. You know, to show up.
But even by showing up at work after lunch, I still wasn’t “showing up”. I wasn’t present. My mind was elsewhere, my emotions were in tatters on the floor. I was short with people – not mean or angry or snappy, just short. Speaking the bare minimum to appear “normal” or “OK”. I still felt like crying, and while I didn’t react, I felt like everything I had to deal with was a personal attack on me. Not just because it was part of my work, but because *I* was there today.
When we took the kids for a drive after dinner, my husband was seeming a little down too. I asked him what was wrong. He explained he just felt emotional, tired, shattered. Sick of dealing with assholes who think they know his job better than he does.
“Mercury retrograde,” I said.
“Fucking mercury retrograde.”