But because I am that cheerfully friendly extrovert, I've never really minded going out, especially if there were friends available to hang out with, game with, talk to; I enjoy people.
Oh, I still enjoy people. I just want to enjoy them while I'm safely in my own little nest, or one of the few places that may as well be, like my mother's house.
So I am looking forward to the guests I'm having this evening, and time at my mom's tomorrow for Lizzy's birthday, and possibly another guest tomorrow night (it's end-of-the-summer-sleepover-weekend, you know).
I dreaded the elementary school meet-and-greet on Thursday (although I'm certainly comfortable there, and it was fine, if exhausting.Same with the ear-piercing for Miz Liz: exhausting).
Even taking Abby up to her dad's this weekend was tiring, and that was just driving (albeit in a thunder-squall, which - in spite of Seattle's reputation - doesn't really happen all that often).
This is probably exactly why my attendance manager and my team manager convinced me that I wasn't ready to go back to work last Tuesday. I'm completely comfy in my workplace, to the point where I can fall asleep in the break room. But it was really hard for me to be there (and probably hard on my lovely coworkers, who have serious empathy and just wanted to figuratively cuddle me).
Is temporary introversion a common part of depression? I don't know; usually my depression is seasonal and mostly revolves around irritability. Just ask my ex-husband, LOL; I was not my usual cheerful RavenPuff (or HuffleClaw, seriously, take the test) self from October through March or so most of the time we were married.
Heck, even Laston would probably have agreed with that assessment, although he'd talk around it so as not to hurt my feelings.
It's not just me either. Leanna's still at Numb (the memorial seems to have made some of the Numb wear off for me, which I think is why the depression is much worse this week than it was this time last week). Abby doesn't want to talk about it (though she may be talking to her friends). Lizzy is swinging between her normal cheerful bouncy self and an unusually strong manifestation of her scared self, which is why I wrote this on Facebook and G+ this morning:
Please do not read your little sister Goosebumps stories anymore, no matter how not-scary they are in your opinion.
In any case, we seem to all be at Exacerbated-Normal; like my homebody-ness, Abby's conflict-avoidance, and Lizzy's bedtime-fears are worse than usual. Eggshells everywhere.
And as always, writing it out helps me, at least.