Tuesday, August 17, 2010


Last Friday, I got to a point where I started to worry myself, so I threw some clothes in a backpack and drove back to Baton Rouge a day earlier than I needed to be there (Saturday was a 50th/80th birthday party for my dad and grandma; respectively). I spent time with friends and slept on Christie's couch a couple of nights and on T n T's guest bed another night. I drank a lot and spent time with people I love and/or adore and cried a lot and slept very little. I lost 3 pounds.

On Monday, on my way back, I stopped to see my mom and some family members were there. I was told I looked tired and depressed. My mom asked me, "why are you depressed?" I said, "My boyfriend broke up with me, I don't have a job, all my friends live in other towns." She said, "you'll find a job soon." I didn't know how to reply to that, so I muttered, "I know." We went for a pedicure and that was nice until I threw up in the salon bathroom, since all I'd "eaten" that day was juice and that never interacts well with my medicine.

All that to say that when I finally got back to New Orleans, where I thought I was escaping on Friday, I felt better. Driving up the Causeway in 5 o'clock traffic felt relaxing. Walking in to my apartment felt like coming home. I'm still depressed and probably not taking care of myself as I should, but I felt worse in Baton Rouge, surrounded by all those people, than I did alone on my couch. I don't mean to devalue those people, because they didn't cause that breakdown and I think it would have been worse without them. Rather, I think having them help me through it enabled me to come back home and be okay with being alone again, for awhile.


  1. whew, girl! i'm glad that coming home felt like coming home...

  2. me too. it gets better but it'll be best when I get a jobbbb.