We had a house warming party last weekend and because we had so much left over alcohol and even got more as presents (the fact that only one person got truly plastered and that most people were heading home at around 12 shows how grown up everybody is becoming), we decided to have a smaller dinner get together this weekend for those had planned to come but had to cancel in the last second.
My parents know how to plan a party. My mom is a goddess at fixing all the things surrounding it, my dad is a god at being the host. My mother puts her heart and soul into each thing they throw (their low key gatherings are a party according to most). And my dad, mr. social, so comfortable in his own skin, seems to be able to start a conversation with most everybody and thrives at being at the centre of attention. Both are amazing hosts, my mother the firecracker and my father with his bellowing laughter. They make a hell of a team.
I’m a perfect mix of both my parents in so many ways, and am so much like them both that it’s no question who’s kid I am. This party gene though, is not a gene that they passed on to me. Usually, I look forward to plans like trips with others or social gatherings (especially those that we’ve planned) with trepidation because I never know what mood I will be on that day and if I’m in a bad place I just want to run away and hide from all these people I’m supposed to be friendly towards. Then there’s the next day. These things (and then I mean any social situations where I have to make an effort to be as normal as possible for a lengthy period of time) usually leave me down and out for one or two days after. So imagine my surprise when I realised that I not once was worried about what mood I would be in, and I the next day was rearing to host the next thing; the dinner tonight.
Guess what happened in the middle of the week? I guess the aftershock of last weeks’ just came a little later than it usually does. On monday I felt the tremors but figured I was just tired, by tuesday I knew that I was sinking, coming wednesday I was struggling and had to ask to get thursday and friday off. A half hour chat with my dad was pretty much the only thing that helped me gather enough energy to do the things I had to do that day at work. Funny thing happened, as soon as my boss gave me the green light to take thursday and friday off the weight on my shoulders just lifted, and it felt silly to need to take two days off. I knew that I needed it though. It’s a strange thing with depressions though. I call my bipolarism a sickness (not a handicap like the way it’s defined here in Sweden, although in some ways I guess it is), but it isn’t a sickness that is so easily defined. Moods are a strange thing.
Anyway, so in 7 hours we’re having a dinner party and I can’t wrap my head around the fact that I need to get up and start preparing. So I’m quietly panicking. I know it can be an awesome evening tonight as well. I just need to get started. Soon. Now. Ok, I’m starting.