Nothing works

I thought that a stolen day off to enjoy one of our last sunny and warm afternoons would refresh me. It didn't.

I thought that doing something constructive -- putting away my summer clothes, taking out my winter clothes -- would make me feel productive. It didn't.

I thought that doing something charitable -- dropping off a bag of clothes to Goodwill -- would make me feel as though I have value. It didn't.

I thought having a guy flirt with me -- the one in line ahead of me at Parky's hot dogs -- would make me feel like everyone doesn't peg me as a pudgy middle-aged lesbian. It didn't.

I am in a very dark place these days. And tomorrow, when I return to work, that coworker of mine is going to glom onto me like a carbuncle. In a weak moment I offered her the seat next to mine at a play this Wednesday (my regular theater buddy can't make it). I'm not looking forward to it. She's in love with her victimhood, and I'm working hard to resist mine. I don't want her sapping me or bringing me down.

I'm seeing my shrink on Thursday. She has her work cut out for her.