In Which I Go To Church

For the first time in like, forever. The rest of the fantastic 4 was very excited to see me. I still feel sick, but I only came because I missed them so much. I did have to take an anti anxiety med right before potluck, but it turned out I didn’t need it, and it just knocked me out. I slept for 3 hours and only got up once, and not to go the bathroom: to go lie down someplace more comfortable. That’s weird, for me.

Sebastien spoke today. He talked about the sanctuary. Even though I was only parshly listening, it felt really good to hear a sermon with content you could chew on. The pastor at my grandma’s church, whom I shall not name here for obvious reasons, preaches very shallow sermons.

People at potluck did irritating things, but for some reason it did not trigger a mood swing.Maybe the meds are working already? Or I’m just too tired to get irritated.

So in that respect things are kind of getting better. I’m not well by a long shot, but I’ve been picked up off the floor, at least. Now I need someone to help dust me off and place me back on my feet.

When I told Sebastien “not well” in answer to his “how are you doing?” he said we’d talk. He also said he’d give me $100. I believed him about one just as much as I did the other.

Well, at least 3 people were genuinely happy to see me. (We’re not counting Justin, because I see him throughout the week anyway.) I guess I’ll take that and let that make me happy.

At least until the next bout of depression kicks in.

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