"As Happy As You Want To Be"

This is the response I got from one of my best friends last night when I called him to discuss my current state of mind. I told him to fuck off, six times, in quick succession. "Fuck off, fuck off, fuck off, fuck off, fuck off, fuck off," I said. He asked me, sarcastically, if I wanted to tell him to fuck off again. I told him I just wanted him to understand. Because he, by the way, in the past had told me that "five out of six of [his] best friends from high school have been clinically diagnosed as insane." You would think that this motherfucker who has seen real mental illness would get that mild depression is not a place you "want to be".

I'm trying everything I can. I don't know why I feel like I have to justify myself to this blog - to a computer, in essence - but I do. Yesterday I pulled my ass out of bed, went to Riverside Park to read a children's book (a great one - "the giver" by Lois Lowry) and to soak up some of my beloved sunshine. Then, upon returning home, I decided I'd like to see "The Devil Wears Prada," so I Fandago'd myself a movie ticket, walked the mile to the movie theater, enjoyed the movie, and ambled the mile back home, looking into shop windows, shoe stores, and of course, at the other people walking around, endeavoring to appreciate my surroundings. I stopped in starbucks for an iced coffee. I came home and drew, and I called my grandmother, and I ordered out a sandwich, and I wrote and blogged, and I watched my dear Red Sox. If this wasn't taking full advantage of NYC as much as I could, then I don't know what would be. I mean, short of taking a trip up the Empire State Building - ha. Thought it was a pretty decent attempt at doing everything I enjoy.

Apparently, though, as midnight set in and I was home, alone, not wanting to "go out" and not wanting to drink, I felt that twinge of uselessness yet again. Today I haven't even been able to leave my apartment. I haven't been able to eat, save for some gourmet crackers that were given to me as a gift, nor to drink, save for two bottles of Propel water (my new favorite thing) that line the bottom shelf of my refrigerator.

So tomorrow I am pulling out the final stop. My trump card, so to speak, is the beach. I will get on an early train, I will purchase the most craptastic magazines I can find (these include US Weekly, In Touch, and People) as well as the Sunday New York Times (solely for the crossword puzzle, although the physical weight of the rest of the paper in my beach bag is always an annoying factor), and I will lie out in the predicted sunshine on the sands of Long Beach and listen to the sound of the ocean and absorb the beautiful Vitamin E.

This Shit Cannot Last. I will not allow it. I have too much to give to internalize all of the energy I have that is somehow not positive when it takes a u-turn and comes back to me, because I KNOW it is positive when I let it out in the world.

And by the way, to return to the title of this entry, are we always as ____ (fill in the blank) as we want to be? Fuck, no. Maybe, though, I can substitute "want" for "try" and at least forgive my friend a little bit for his perceived MISunderstanding. There is no doubt that I am trying. And that is, in my current mindset, the best thing that I can do.