Today was a hard day.

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.”