Prepare Yourself for the Whining

This has been The. Crappiest. Break. Ever.

That doesn't go very well with the above picture, does it?

My plans for fall break included lots of sleep, catching up on homework, getting ahead on reading for my lit class, moving around my furniture in my apartment, learning as much French as possible in four days, baking lots of yummy things, writing happy notes and letters to friends, and playing with Hughie. I have done none of these things.

Instead, I have been sick. I've done nothing more than take a daily bath and oscillate between the couch and my bed. I couldn't sleep last night until 5 a.m. I have a doozie of an ear infection in each ear to the point of bloody discharge and bursting eardrums. (Eardrums are not supposed to have holes in them. My mother always told me I couldn't get my ears pierced because ear lobes aren't supposed to have holes in them. I would so, so rather have cute danglies from my ears right now.) I cannot have a conversation with friends because even standing three feet away, I can't hear them. The pain is un-freakin'-bearable. I've never taken so much painkiller in my life; I'm not sure I've ever endured so much physical pain before. It's a catch-22--either writhe in agony, crying from the pain, or have a bleeding stomach and shot liver because I've put away nearly a whole bottle each of Advil and Tylenol in the past three days.

Just when my depression was starting to abate, this thing has totally taken me down. I remember this one time when I could maintain a normal life... was that a dream?

But my friends, my Lincoln-family really, have been so, so great. Last night, Ashley came over just to sit and watch Veronica Mars with me for a couple of hours so I wouldn't be alone. When Ben of-the-Barber-variety heard that my eardrums had ruptured, he said "So we're on our way to take her to the E.R., right?!" Angela has given me Korean soup which totally settled my queasy stomach, lent me her thermometer, patted my knee while I cried, and forgiven my all-night tossing and turning. (And if she's heard my whimpers of pain when I think she's out of hearing distance, she hasn't let on.) They have been good to me. I have fought the urge to avoid letting anyone take care of me and to feel guilty for needing so much help all the time. This is what community is. I value community, and that means not having to go it alone.

And that's what the above picture and my crappy break have in common. In the terrible bad, there is good. I know this in the depth of my soul when I am not depressed, and currently I am as not-depressed as a person in this much pain can be. My friends--my community--in this and all other cases, are the good.