That is my self-diagnosis. Sigh.
Friday night I was invited to, and attended, a birthday celebration on a Capital Hill rooftop terrace. It was a gorgeous, though chilly, setting, and I thought I'd be able to conquer my anti-social demons and for once have a good time. Well, that didn't happen. I chatted with a couple people here and there, and everyone was perfectly friendly, but still, I just kind of stood there, eating chips or crackers, unsure of what exactly to do. See, these people are ones I used to work with, and while I like them and all, I apparently don't have anything in common with them. Most of them are friends outside of work, so maybe that's why it's difficult for an 'outsider.' I don't know what the deal is, but I guess I should just learn the lesson.
See, the way I used to be, if I was in a situation like that, where no one was talking to me and I wasn't talking to anyone either, I would be all upset and crying and angry that no one liked me. Thankfully, I have grown out of that, at long last. It doesn't upset me, but I can realize rationally that I am not fitting in, regardless of whose fault it is, and understand that it really is my fault for being too shy and insecure to join a group of people that I find intimidating or just who don't necessarily strike me as kindred spirits.
Saturday morning I was really late to the volunteering at Discovery Park. Fortunately I only missed the introductory stuff, and arrived in time to get in a van. Our Seattle Works group, along with a big group of Boeing volunteers, went to the beach for a clean-up. It was a gorgeous day, sunny and breezy. That beach is the westernmost point of Seattle, and the lighthouse is an original from the 19th century. We were only out there for a couple hours, and for the most part the trash was little bits of styrofoam or plastic, not whole cups or basketballs or whatnot. Though I do believe several tires were found. Anyway, it was neat to wander the beach, inspecting the piles of driftwood for odd colors and textures. I found an intact MAC eyeshadow compact, a pen, and several earplugs, among other things.
Saturday evening I joined the gang in an outing to Bush Gardens, which I hadn't been to since the night of the brawl. I figured it would be a good opportunity to see folks I had been to hermetic to visit lately, and make up for my lack of social skills exhibited the night before. Well. It was nice to see people, but I was a disaster. I just kind of sat there and stared at the wall. My back was to the people singing, so I just kind of spaced out. Happily, two other people indulged my lethargy and we played hangman for most of the night. What a pathetic bore I am! The others seemed to be having a great time, and I was very glad for them. I felt bad that I was a downer in their midst and so I just tried to stay quiet and out of their way.
This morning I awoke after a tiny six hours of sleep to do the launch weekend workout. Again, I just felt blah and my knee was hurting. I winced and faked my way through the twenty minutes of combat, trying not to cry, and so during the break, just went home. I can't get up the energy for anything or anyone lately. I'm not sure what is wrong with me, although the fact that I haven't been eating very much real food is probably partly to blame. But my head is just out of it. I don't think it can be classified as depression, because last week when I was temping, I felt pretty normal. I'm figuring that this lack of routine and not knowing where I'll be or what I'll be doing in two months is just building up in my head, somewhere like a basement, where I don't have to see it all the time but I know it's there, building and building, and eventually it will overflow into...the other rooms of my head. Whatever. But I haven't felt "happy" in quite awhile. Not that I know what "feeling happy" is like, but I know that I haven't been there lately.