I woke up to Dad knocking on my bedroom door at 6:45 a.m., asking me what time I was supposed to be at work. I had slept through my alarm. Fuck. I jumped out of bed, threw on some clothes, and ran out the door.

I arrived at The Store 15-minutes late. Naturally, it had to be on the day that the new dickhead assistant manager was working. He tattled on me to Alicia, as if she would even care. Fuck off, dude. I wasn’t in the mood.

I was in such a depressed funk all day. On my way to and from the mall, I couldn’t even listen to any music in the car. I just wanted complete silence. I clocked in, and proceeded to work quietly on all of the visuals throughout the store.

I often work silently. It helps me focus. However, normally I’m still thinking to myself during those times. I can’t remember anything I might have thought about this morning. I think I just completely zoned out. I was on autopilot. I also didn’t look at my phone until after I had finished my shift, which was around noon. I didn’t want any social interaction today. All I wanted to do was curl up in a ball, escape into darkness, and sleep forever. That’s exactly what I did once I returned home to Casa Z.

When I checked my phone after work, I had a few messages. Logan had asked me how MOMENTS was, and I responded with a fairly generic answer. The same canned text that I’ve been sending to everyone:

“It was great – an awesome, fun crowd and people really got into it.”

Logan responded with an equally generic celebratory remark, and that was the extent of our exchange. I didn’t expect anything more. I don’t want to share my disappointment with people. Especially someone like Logan. I don’t want to let people know how I really feel about such a massive failure in my life. So, I’ve just been sharing that same short, yet positive review of the party. That’s it. Maybe a carefully selected picture or two if I’m feeling generous.

As soon as I got home, I grabbed a handful of Cadbury Mini Eggs from the Costco-sized bag in the pantry, went upstairs, got naked, took my Xanax, and crawled into bed.

I woke up at 6 p.m. to Mom knocking on my door. I was still half-asleep, but she poked her head in from around the side of the door, and then slid a huge cardboard box into the middle of my bedroom.

“Happy Easter!” she exclaimed, with a big smile on her face.

Mom didn’t stay in my room long. She and Dad were going downtown to a Toronto Raptors basketball game tonight. Mom kissed me goodbye and closed the door behind her. Soon after she left, I opened the box and began sobbing.

Mom bought me the really expensive lamp from Pottery Barn that I had been wanting, but couldn’t afford. It’s a gorgeous lamp. An antique-looking, iron floor lamp with a bronze and brass finish. I’d been eyeing it since before Christmas. It was $395.

I had wanted the lamp because I wanted more light in my life – both physically and metaphorically. The Witch Cave is very dark because of the way I’ve painted it, and I thought that having another lighting fixture in my apartment would help to bring me out of the dark hole that I’ve been living in. For Mom to give me that lamp at this time means more to me than I think she’ll ever know. Thank you, Mom. Thank you so much.

I sat on my bed and sobbed for half an hour tonight. I still feel like garbage. The cloud of despair that I thought I had come out from under has found its way back into my life. I feel more alone than ever.

After Mom and Dad had left, and I had finished crying in my room, I went downstairs. I made myself some dinner and watched The First Wives Club. Unfortunately, that only made me feel worse about myself. I was sobbing during most of it, actually. Well, at least for the first 30-minutes. The film is about women being mistreated by men. Not that I’m a divorced woman, but I still never got the closure I wanted from Logan. Yet, he still continues to message me as though everything is fine. It’s fucking with my head.

Things got better, though. As did my outlook. By the end of the movie, I felt a lot better about myself. It was sort of a reminder that, if you really want to, you can turn your life around. And I really want to.

A large part of me continues to feel as though MOMENTS was a big failure. However, when I messaged some friends to thank them again for their attendance and support, they all expressed how much fun they had. Even people I’m not that close with. That felt really good. It was somewhat reassuring.

At the end of the day, all I wanted was for people to have a good time at MOMENTS. I just wish I could have realized that during the actual party, instead of behaving like a fucking crazy person all night.

My over-analyzing hasn’t stopped, either. Now, I’ve moved on to thinking about the most insignificant of details, like the placement of the cardboard cutout, or what tape I should have used to put up photos on a brick wall. Like, what the fuck? It’s so obsessive. All I want is to move on, but my brain won’t let me.

At the end of the day, my party was not a failure. It feels that way to me, because MOMENTS wasn’t what I wanted or what I had envisioned. But, the end result was not a failure by any means. People had a good time. Not to mention, the overall turnout was still pretty decent. I managed to get over 150 people to attend a niche market event, in the west end of Toronto, on a holiday weekend, and I had the place completely decked out. I should be proud of myself. I should be. I want to be. I’m getting there. Slowly.

This morning I still felt like killing myself. I felt that way yesterday, too. Not all day, but the thoughts hit me pretty hard after I finished writing last night’s journal entry. I was lying in bed, unable to sleep as I looked up at the glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling, and death was all I could think about.

It’s such a sick thought, too. Suicide. Killing myself. I don’t see myself ever doing something like that, but I often wonder why my mind goes there. My medication doesn’t make me happy. The Xanax just dulls me. It sedates me to the point where I feel void of any real emotion, unable to smile or feel anything.

I’m feeling a bit better now, I guess. I talked to Bryan a lot tonight. A few other friends, too. I also spent a lot of time sweating things out in the steam shower. By the end of the night, I had managed to emerge from some of my darkness. It’s around midnight now. I’m going to bed.

Tomorrow is a new day. It’s also the restart of my continued search for work, now that I don’t have a major event to focus on. I want my moment to come. Yet, I’ve come to believe that it’s just not in the cards for me. When will it be my time to shine? Every time I think something in my life is going to work out, it fails. I build up all of these life events, only to have them come crashing down on top of me. I feel defeated.

Goodnight xo