Tonight, I feel *blue* or as Holly Golightly would say: "I've got the mean reds."
I've spent the day watching over and worrying about Scooter. It's disheartening to see my dog, who is usually so energetic and boisterous, barely able to sit up. He has no interest in food or water, and it's weird to open the refrigerator and not have him at my heels. The stress and anxiety have taken their toll today, so this evening I decided to make room for a short run -- figuring it would be a good stress reliever, but in the middle of it, I felt overwhelmed with grief.
It's not just about Scooter -- although he is currently the source of my tension -- it's about four months of pent-up emotional, mental, and physical strain and it suddenly feels quite burdensome.
My family, which was previously so dysfunctional I didn't think it could get any less functional, has been experiencing what I only care to call here a "weird" time. ( I could spend about 200 pages talking about my family, but I have spent much effort and have drunk many beers to try and assuage that gaping wound; I don't care to delve into any kind of depth here, sorry.) And to help keep my mind off the drama there, I have buried myself in this semester's work, and for nearly two months there, I was teaching nine classes (five is a full-time schedule, I accepted six as an overload in order to receive some more pay, and then took an additional class at another university two days a week, and then ended up long-term subbing for eight weeks for two other classes) and even once I went back to my "regular" schedule in late October, I still had the original seven classes that I now am ending the term with.
It's hard to express how many papers I have read this semester.
On top of those two burdensome loads, I have been training for this marathon with its dizzying fluctuation of emotional and physical duress. Add to that the holidays, preparation for an upcoming trip, the end of the semester, and now my injured dog, and, well, it's enough to make a girl feel positively sapped. So in the middle of my run this evening, I found myself weeping (and not the good I-feel-better-now crying but the oh-god-I've-opened-flood-gates crying) and I HATE crying. I know it's supposed to make me feel better, but I actually always feel embarrassed and weak and humiliated when I break down in tears (this is why I try my best to hold them in at most costs) even when alone.
Running usually makes me feel better, but right now it feels like one more weight I have to shoulder, and I feel myself straining under so much heaviness.
Logic tells me that I will take a shower and feel better, and then have a good night's sleep and feel better, and then maybe Scooter will be somewhat improved and I'll feel better, but right now, I don't feel good, and "better" feels a long way off.