We had her birthday party and it was really nice. We had about three kids there for the first hour. My husband asked me if I was anxious about it, and I wasn’t. I was surprised. It wasn’t like I was having symptoms of anxiety and was calming myself down from them. I just wasn’t anxious; not at all.
Eventually a lot more kids got there. They had a wonderful time in the cold pool and with the crafts. There was pizza. I could talk about how various people annoyed me, but why bother. I’m only writing about the party so people don’t have to ask how it went. It was good, maybe it was my favorite birthday she’s had. Happy Birthday, Size Small!
I read some posts from January and I am struck with how differently I sound when I’m depressed. There is no joy. There is a lot of survival and assessment of the situation. I don’t tell myself, “Okay, you’ve been through this before, you can do it again.” I fear that I closely survived the last bout but may not this one. If I can nip it in the bud, I recognize patterns, but if it gets beyond that, it is difficult to fight the illness.
I have a question for you, gentle reader:
You were given $35 to do what ever you wanted to. Would you (a) spend it on arts and crafts supplies or (b) save it so you can get your poor dyed auburn/red hair with lots of gray and dark brown roots colored professionally?
I can’t decide. The art supplies include embossing plates that say, “thank you” and “happy birthday” so they would help me bless others. Having good hair is a way to bless others, too.