Emotions Are Weird

When you really think about it, about the weird-ass things that trigger different emotions, they are some bizarre suckers, aren't they?
For example, I started off the day on a good foot. I still hurt a lot, so I wore my brightest, happiest, most-forgiving top and cardigan combination, did my makeup and giggled relentlessly over how much wearing purple eyeshadow and blue mascara makes me happy. Came in to work determined to Get Stuff Done.
I started listening to the podcast of Krissie, Lani, and Jenny together on Reinventing Fabulous, caught up on the podcasts at Popcorn Dialogues, did lots and lots of library work.
And then I was listening to ReFab podcast again and all of a sudden, I got super, super sad. Like all of a sudden the fact that I haven't been in the physical presence of my bestie in ten years caught up to me. And when I hurt this much, it's just a hop, skip, and a jump from reasonable amounts of sad to I Will Die Alone Depression-Ville.
Here's how it works:
"I wish I had friends like these three. They're so awesome. They really are like sisters. That's so awesome. Well, I have Bestie. Bestie's awesome. I haven't seen Bestie in ten years. I'll probably never get to see her. This pain is never going to go away. I'm going to live the rest of my life in pain and on painkillers just to be able to work. And I'll never be able to go out like a normal person, so I'll never have any other friends. And I'll never be able to travel to see Bestie, so eventually she'll get tired of my whining, and I'll lose her. And I'm a raging bitch when I hurt, and I'm going to hurt for forever, so The Hubby will get sick of me and leave me, and I'll be so stressed that he left me that I'll get to the point where I hurt so bad, I can never leave the bed ever, and I'll blow up to one of those people who weigh like 800 pounds, and then I'll really never have friends, because I'll smell from not being able to move, and then I'll die alone, a smelly gross, fat bitch."
See? It's insane, I swear.
And I try to cheer myself up, but when it gets this looney tunes, it's hard to find anything that will work.
So, in twenty minutes, I'll head home and get a hug from The Hubby who will reassure me that he won't leave me if I become a super-bitchy hurty-pants, and I'll believe him... for a minute or two, before the Crazy starts up again.