Buzzkill

Yesterday should have been a great day. The Bush regime got the swift kick in the nuts it so richly deserves. Donald Rumsfeld finally did the right thing and resigned. And my friend K won an important skirmish in a long-running court battle.

But I struggled all day with mind- and body-numbing despair. My day started with an unpleasant but necessary phone conversation that left me with a sense of shame I just couldn't shake. Even an outing to the dog park and a long walk, two activities that usually cure whatever ails me, couldn't help me ditch the blues.

Later in the day I had another necessary conversation with Dear Husband and sobbed throughout the phone call, which only compounded my shame. Even though I have several kind and caring shoulders to cry on, DH is still the person I want to turn to when I'm hurting.

In a way, that makes sense - DH has been my rock for a long, long time, and it's natural to gravitate toward what you know. But it's a habit that needs to be broken. Seeking comfort from DH only makes me wistful for what might have been, and wistfulness isn't going to help me get through the hard times to come.