Today I decided it was too much to get out of bed. So I didn't. When I finally did at 5pm, I ran into a friend in the parking lot who told me that his brother had just shot himself and was still alive but unlikely to make it. Then I went to an early dinner with a friend who told me she had just been diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. Then I got home and my friend texted me that his brother had just passed away. And my heart broke. So I went back to bed for a few hours. Because it was a hard day before all the suffering. It was a hard day on which I accomplished absolutely nothing I needed to do (which always makes hard days harder). I don't even know why it was a hard day (before all the bad- I know why it was hard after that). I have a lot to do and I've been stressed, but I still need to get out of bed. Oh wait... I have depression. That's right. Even when I'm feeling mostly awesome, I have bad days. That is a fact of my life. It's mostly fine. I'm mostly fine. Today was just mostly suck. Until I finally peeled myself out of bed again to spend some time with a wonderful guy. That was good. Because I didn't want to get out of bed at all, but I did anyways. And I felt a LOT better for awhile. Now that I'm home again, my brain is feeling disjointed, much like this post. But it's ok. I think I'll be able to get out of bed tomorrow.
RIP Luke. My prayers are with you and your family.