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I was social again today. I went to an annual bbq/birthday party, usually featuring a lot of booze and food. There were both, today, and I indulged in some of each. In the past I've drunk a lot, but that was much easier when home was still within staggering distance. Keeping in mind that I did have to drive myself home, I'm pretty proud of myself that I had only one alcohol unit today. Anxiety was kicking me about this event, but not as hard (since hey, I've done this before, so it's not so new-scary-new). I had been thinking about bringing Mexican lasagna (MexiLas, as it's known in some circles) but decided that I was going to be selfish and make it to share it with D. I brought my fallback items instead: carrot chips, goat cheese, hummus, and brie, aka the Ecstatic Cult of Hummus and Brie. I had a plan this time. I decided not to show up at the stated start time because I knew I'd be prone to drinking more (since I'd gotten there so early) and feel like I needed to keep drinking to keep being social. So I spent most of my morning distracting myself from thinking about going to an event yet again.
I finished prepping the chicken I'd baked last night. I am so glad I have a bunch of non-latex gloves. The sensation of greasiness on my hands when I debone cooked chicken gives me the shudders. I hate thinking I'm transferring a bunch of schmaltz from my hands onto everything I touch until I can scrub it all off. Since they're still mostly numb, I wouldn't know if they were completely clean without practically parboiling them and drenching them with dish soap. Gloves are such a convenience.
Day 24:
I was going to walk out of the house in the first shirt I put on today, a black ladies XL one that fits me pretty well. But as I was putting on my makeup I kept looking at the the design on the front and frowning at it. It's got a silver pentagram with the words "earth, air, fire, water, wiccan spirit" wrapping around it twice. And I can get down with earth, air, fire, and water, but not so much with the wiccan spirit, because I'm not religious at all. I envy other people their faiths, but I do not believe (and haven't since I was about seven years old; yes, I experienced depression long before I got to be that age). I think it's a side effect of the depression, which makes me ultra-rational (and ultra-pessimistic) about certain things (faith is doomed to go unrewarded, hope will always be disappointed). I felt it would be wrong for me to wear this shirt, because I know that certain people at the party would start to ask me about wicca, and I'd have to tell them that I don't know anything about it and that I'm just wearing the shirt because I'm an appropriative boor. It's why I don't wear stuff with crosses on them, either. And I might wear a shirt with "namaste" written on it because I do enjoy yoga sometimes, but I made a conscious decision during my college years that I wouldn't be a walking billboard for anything I didn't personally support. Part of that came from a decided distaste for designer label clothing/status symbols that my family couldn't afford to buy me as a teenager, growing up in status-conscious OC. The fact that I didn't fit into designer clothing was a contributing factor. But it was also impressed upon me that I wasn't worth spending that kind of money on (but my mother spent that kind of money on herself and on my sister). The wiccan spirit shirt is now in the Go-Away Bag. I settled on a paisley one to go in.
I finished prepping the chicken I'd baked last night. I am so glad I have a bunch of non-latex gloves. The sensation of greasiness on my hands when I debone cooked chicken gives me the shudders. I hate thinking I'm transferring a bunch of schmaltz from my hands onto everything I touch until I can scrub it all off. Since they're still mostly numb, I wouldn't know if they were completely clean without practically parboiling them and drenching them with dish soap. Gloves are such a convenience.
Day 24:
I was going to walk out of the house in the first shirt I put on today, a black ladies XL one that fits me pretty well. But as I was putting on my makeup I kept looking at the the design on the front and frowning at it. It's got a silver pentagram with the words "earth, air, fire, water, wiccan spirit" wrapping around it twice. And I can get down with earth, air, fire, and water, but not so much with the wiccan spirit, because I'm not religious at all. I envy other people their faiths, but I do not believe (and haven't since I was about seven years old; yes, I experienced depression long before I got to be that age). I think it's a side effect of the depression, which makes me ultra-rational (and ultra-pessimistic) about certain things (faith is doomed to go unrewarded, hope will always be disappointed). I felt it would be wrong for me to wear this shirt, because I know that certain people at the party would start to ask me about wicca, and I'd have to tell them that I don't know anything about it and that I'm just wearing the shirt because I'm an appropriative boor. It's why I don't wear stuff with crosses on them, either. And I might wear a shirt with "namaste" written on it because I do enjoy yoga sometimes, but I made a conscious decision during my college years that I wouldn't be a walking billboard for anything I didn't personally support. Part of that came from a decided distaste for designer label clothing/status symbols that my family couldn't afford to buy me as a teenager, growing up in status-conscious OC. The fact that I didn't fit into designer clothing was a contributing factor. But it was also impressed upon me that I wasn't worth spending that kind of money on (but my mother spent that kind of money on herself and on my sister). The wiccan spirit shirt is now in the Go-Away Bag. I settled on a paisley one to go in.
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