Me screaming at him to stop suggesting I move back to my hometown "just stop, please, just stop! Dammit, dad!"
Realizing I don't really know a whole lot about my parents past. It'd been nice to maybe have a little information about this genetic depression.
After a bit of hesitation, informing him I'd fallen back to suicidal thoughts these past few weeks. But, again, promised I wouldn't. I assured him I kept up with the meds and all my appointments at the Ghetto Clinic. And, finally, after God-knows-how-many-years, admitted to him that I think I have an eating disorder. Can't eat when I'm down; and, I've been down a lot. It may have started in high school. While out partying and drinking, the minute someone said "let's get something to eat" that usually meant an end to the night. And after like 15 years, the back of your head thinks Food=end of fun. Or maybe it's a control issue. Or maybe I just really fear getting fat.
Really feeling bad that he (still) feels so bad about not being around much in my youth. Either working, out of town antiquing, or lost in his own depression. "Daddy's not feeling well, he's napping."
Lots of crying into the phone. I felt so much better. Apparently, I cry better with some sort of audience. Alone, I only get out a sob or two; kind of like emptying the ocean one teaspoon at a time. I'm freaking dehydrated today.
* * *
Today, woke up Blue-ish (surprise!). But with a tiny portion of Pissed-off on the side. So, when one feels like Shit, where do you go? To the bathroom, of course.
Armed with mop, sponge, Formula 409, some mystery cleaner I picked up somewhere/sometime, and loud music I determined Something Else needed to Die Today! I recommend listening to the following when exterminating dust and grime and soap scum: The Germs (tee hee, get it), World Class Punk and anything by Fear (today we were fueled by American Beer and Have Another Beer With FEAR
Mopped the bathroom and bedroom, scrubbed the tub, sink, toilet. Then rearranged the computer placement in the living room which looks a little more open, but still needs to get the flow right.
Off to work.