People do die without friends. And that's fine.
Nate--I don't think this woman had anyone in her life...
David--Try her high school. everyone has friend from high school.
Claire--No they don't. Maybe they have people they talk to or even do things with, but they're not really friends. They're just filler. ....I don't see why this person has to be mentally ill just because she had a life that doesn't conform to some image we have in our heads. Maybe she was living the life she wanted. The life without the hassle of other people.
Mother--What kind of a life is that?
Six Feet Under, season 2, episode 3
I know I do have real friends. I could list them, but that's so high school.
I might be coming out of my last depression. It's been about 10 days of relative freedom from the gravity of the couch, the bed, and the force field around the door that locks me in.
Freedom, which is serving to freak me out.
Am I manic? Am I healthy? Am I getting back to normal? What's a good normal?
The therapist and I decided perhaps I'm moving into normal again.
So a different kind of frustration and exhaustion settles in--exhaustion of vigilance.
I am so tired of observing myself. Depression? Exhaustion? Anxiety? OK?
Deep breaths and calm. If I have to accept being a wonderful person with a mood disorder when I'm depressed, I might as well learn to accept being a wonderful person with a mood disorder when I'm OK. I should just accept that I'm just OK.
It's a wonderful gift... and a horse not to look in the mouth.
In any case, I would like not to observe myself constantly. This vigilance is exhausting. Perhaps I could just be and someone else could let me know if I'm sick. But last time I let it go that long I got so sick there was almost no turning back. After all this time and all I have learned, there seems to be no choice but wariness and vigilance. The therapist suggested I let her and the alchemist watch too... but I am not sure if that meant I am just supposed to Be while they Watch. I think it's a three person job, at least.
I need a Secret Service team for my brain, not just one lousy night watchman.