New Friends are Just Old Friends, but Young Like Me

A girl came back into my life recently.  She's the only woman I'd marry, but we'd kill each other.  She was my best friend in high school.  I tried to kill myself in college and we couldn't be friends anymore.  I never told her about it.  I didn't blame her for it.  I mean, I blamed myself, but she was the reason.  I could never be as good as her, I never was.  That sucks, and more so when your friends always talk about how great she is, and your mom says things like, "This is my other daughter," and "This is going to be my successful daughter."
But we got back in touch by the miracles of facebook and we're good friends again.  She's the closest friend I have now.  And I do love her.  She's got a boy.  And I worry about her attachment to him.  If she loves him, then I support it.  If he breaks her heart, she will survive and might even be a better person because of it.
We hung out through the holidays when she was in town.  She's a super-over-achiever and is in law school.  There's something about her and her boy trying to open a bar in Brooklyn in there as well.  She lives in Cleveland, but will be moving soon. We text and e-mail occasionally.  It's nice to have someone who gets me.

My trip to the Bahamas got cancelled.  I'm super-bummed about that.  I was excited about making new friends with strangers from the internet.  And I don't think I'm in the book club anymore.  One meeting, and I was out, I guess.  I'm not made to be a great friend, I guess.

Same day I found out about my cancelled trip, I found out about what kind of friends I already had, too.  The Jobless Wives ditched me for breakfast twice in a row.  They forgot we had plans.  So I deleted them from facebook.  Facebook isn't real.  It exists, but it's not real life.  I'm friends with people on facebook that I'm not in real life.  It's just polite.  But also, if it was such a big deal to them.... why did it take 11 days for them to figure it out?  And why was it so important that we be friends?  They are my husband's friends' wives.  We didn't have a whole lot in common.  We had dissimilar tastes, interests, and hobbies.  We were in different places in our lives, different lifestyles.  But the sin of casting them out of the holy facebook friends list was too much for them, and we don't talk now.  I think I'll live.  DaVinci refuses to get in the middle, which is awesome because he wouldn't answer questions like "What did we do wrong?"  Also, it means I don't have to watch football.  I win so few battles, some friendships are just casualties of war.

In other news, I cry for no reason now.  It's that time of year again when the depression rears its ugly head.  While I feel depressed, I find that pretending to be happy helps.  I have to smile and be nice at work.  I don't want to make other people upset or worried, you know.  So, I just go with pretending to be happy.  I actually find this working.  I mean, I catch a few cries in the shower or my car or watching tv and whatnot.  It's just not a problem for others like this.  It also makes my excuse for the puffy redness, "It's just allergies," believable- because no one actually sees me crying.  DaVinci has finally picked up that I'm not sad, just depressed.  If I'm crying, it's not necessarily because anything is wrong.  My bud in Cleveland suffers from SAD, which is very similar.  Her boyfriend is new to this, so she's dealing with explaining the I'm not sad, just depressed thing, too.

I appreciate having a handle on this depression right now.  I know that sounds weird.  I guess it's because this one hasn't made me hit bottom yet.  I'm actually clear-headed enough to acknowledge what's going on.  Even better, I'm not letting it got to me personally. Even when my brain tried to get me to go back to that place where I question my marriage, I didn't let it.  (As an aside, the Pretender got engaged.)  I thought about calling EverSmile up and just chatting, but I know why I'd be doing it.  Now I can say I'm stronger than my depression.  Well, maybe.  It's still early.  I still feel really alone.  DaVinci still helps and tries to understand.  I just know now that it's out of my hands, and I just have to make it as easy as possible.

I don't feel like doing anything.  In fact, it's taken me three days to get this far in this post.   I read a crappy trilogy which a girl at work recommended to me.  It's a kind of love story about human-like troll people (think Twilight, but a little different- main difference being that I never read Twilight).  When she didn't chose the one guy, and instead chose another (Team troll!)  I bawled like a baby.  Reading is usually a good escape for me, but I end up reading books where women run away with guys they love and they live happily ever after.  That's never good.  I don't want to question my marriage.  I love my Hub.  He's my favorite, and just because I'm fucked up for a few weeks doesn't mean I have to ruin his life, or our life together, forever.  My next book in line to read is Madame Bovary, which isn't going to happen.  Books about people- especially women who have trouble with reality- who kill themselves are strictly off the list of readable materials.  Got any suggestions?