I had a good day yesterday.
That's not to say I didn't cry (oh, I did, but I didn't spend the entire day either crying or on the verge of it). It's not to say I'm now all "I want to LIVE, dammit!" (you've met me, right?). It's not to say everything went perfectly. In fact, I had a bunch of annoying stuff go down at work (just minor technical glitches - it happens when you work in technology).
But here's the thing: those minor technical glitches? Even just two DAYS ago, they would've put me into hysterics. But yesterday, I cursed softly and figured them out and moved on, which is exactly what would have happened six months ago.
I only slept for three hours Tuesday night, so it's not that I was rested. I managed nearly seven hours last night; I long for a restful night's sleep, and at this point, if someone told me I could have that for the low, low price of everything I own, I'd seriously consider it. I didn't exercise at all yesterday, because I was dead on my feet - that and it was too hot to go for a walk even at 6:00 AM. So it's not as if I did anything dramatically different that led to a good day.
But the oppressive cloud of misery hanging over my head was just a TINY bit smaller. Does that make life worth living again? Hell if I know. I sure don't feel any more willing to spend my days and nights without my Doug. I still don't feel hopeful that anything will ever be meaningful again. And I certainly don't feel hopeful that I'll ever be happy.
But for one day, it wasn't entirely unbearable all day. And I didn't think that even THAT small a thing would ever happen, so for now, it's enough.
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