A Recap of my Week

I have been more depressed than even I should be, for the stupidest of reasons that my subconcious could apparently think of.

Saturday, I had a really bad migraine. Bad enough that I laid down on my couch at night, with sunglasses on. I missed a friends' potluck, and was useless all day because of this migraine.

Sunday I finally kicked down and was able to get all kinds of household chores and homework done. Then I went to hang out with some coworkers, before my last destination; my best friends' going away party. She's currently driving out to Calgary to start a new life. I ate some appetizers with her, talked about random times, and her plans, then said goodbye and went home.

I woke up Monday morning with a temp well over suitable range. I dragged my icky self into work, and tried to tough it out, but I was sent home rather quickly.

Same thing happened on Tuesday. After both days, I just went straight to bed and hoped my good old method of sleeping and sweating it out worked.

See, I really don't like hospitals or doctors. I refuse to go in unless I absolutely need to, or I get dragged in.

More often than not, I'm dragged in.

So clearly, I had no intention of going to the ER, or an afterhours clinic just to sit around in an uncomfortable position for hours, just because my thermometer told me my temp was too high. How high?

I only share this now because no one can drag me to the hospital. My temp hovered around 99 to 104 for two days. I had no appetite, I was sick to my stomach, and I wasn't sleeping properly because my bones were aching so much.

Well, luckily I had Wednesday off. Even luckier, I finally managed to fall asleep. Really fall asleep. I woke on the couch to my cat Saga licking my big toe, and my coworker texting me, reminding me to sleep in.

I've been shaky and depressed all day. I'm so behind on my work, I didn't pass in a project for my human rights course, and I completely forgot to email my profs and let them know what was going down.

I forced myself to bike to Kings Place Mall today, so I could catch a bus up to CBC and work on some assignments. I was so weak, I could barely kick off.

When I got in, there were a few classmates around, asking me how I was doing. I replied "I feel like shit," because I do. Not just out of physical weakness, but out of guilt for feeling useless and unproductive.

Then there were a ton of sirens outside. We all looked at each other, and ran out to see how bad the crash was, what was going on, you know, typical Journo nosiness. Just like that, my depression started to melt away.

Yes, I'm aware we're kinda morbid people, for running towards a fender bender. But it's what we do, even if there's nothing there.

Maybe this is terrible to admit, but running towards that fender bender with my fellow journalists, made me feel like I was home. After a while, sometimes all depression feels like is a lack of mattering, a lack of belonging.

Journalism makes me feel like I serve a purpose, like I belong to this exclusive little club of overcaffeinated, twitchy, morbid folks who just want to observe what's going on, and tell others about it.

Sorry for the long and emotional post, y'all. But at least this clears up the answer to the question of whether or not I enjoy Journalism.