I woke up this morning to no running water in my sink, toilet, or shower. This is thanks to a huge water main break which occurred a couple miles away in Bethesda. A flood of Biblical proportions resulted, meaning the entire NIH campus is without water pressure. Quite annoying, but at least I didn't have anything to do today. No point in confronting the world unshowered and disheveled.
I'm still not up to snuff yet, friends. Yesterday was draining. My antidepressant medication is being swiftly tapered down to nothing, lest it interfere with the results of the forthcoming protocol. Yet again, I recognize that without an adequate dose of meds I am much more vulnerable to events in the outside world that ordinarily would not phase me. When I first got ill, I wished to see if there was any way possible I could live without medication, and found out that it simply wasn't possible. In my teens, the smallest critical word would be agonizing to endure, sending me to my bed to agonize over it for days at a time. I've improved since then quite considerably, but even with therapy, self-reflection, and a good quality medication cocktail, my illness persists.
Part of it is that we're at t-minus two days until Christmas and I haven't even remotely been "in the spirit." Much of this is due to the fact that I'm staying in unfamiliar surroundings in an unfamiliar city, but the older I get the harder I find it possible to sell into a romantic ideal of peace on earth and unconditional love to everyone when the reality is buy as much as one possibly can for as many people as one can for no good reason except for the fact that everyone else is doing it too and one wouldn't want to seem out of place, now, would one? Another big part of it is that the whole country is in a recession and the emotional toll it's taking on people is not particularly pleasant to observe casually on my travels out into the city.
I'm not going home for Christmas this year since I'm not particularly feeling up to traveling. I must admit the thought doesn't upset me, though when the day arrives and I'm here and not among my family I'll probably cry a few tears. My mother cried up a storm when I called her last, but she seems to have calmed down.
I believe the water is back on, so I'm going to go take a shower.