Yesterday was a rough day. I had many low points, but somehow I got through them.
Today had the potential to be a good day, but wasn't. My sister A came over so I could tutor her for the GREs. She's four years older than me and I haven't taken the GREs yet, but I'm a part-time calculus teacher/tutor so she wants me to help her. I was really looking forward to seeing her-- we hadn't seen each other since my grandfather's unveiling in June. The math was boring, but we also talked and went to Target to pass some time. We had a good time together.
But something terrible happened today. I found my mother's weight journal chronicling her ongoing bout of anorexia. I'm not sure what hurts more, the fact that her weight is so low, the fact that I am the designated patient in the family when there are others just as sick as me or that she doesn't love me enough to admit that she has a problem and that her problem has an effect on me. (Wow, I'm actually crying as I type that.)
I'm not one to whine about how sad my life is because I am really a fortunate girl. (I should make the important distinction between being sad and having a sad life. I am extremely depressed, but my life circumstances have been relatively good.) But I genuinely feel that no one in this world besides my dog loves me. I am lonely.
S wants me to visit him (read: have sex with him) at the end of the month. I can thing of nothing less appealing right now.
In fact, only death is appealing right now. I want to get out of this.