Spiders, Depression, and Boys

I hate spiders. But Lizzy hates them more. She is so afraid of them that it is easy for me to see how irrational a fear of spiders is. She runs out of the bathroom, squealing, "Eeew, a spider!" I shake my head, walk in calmly, and squish it with my bare hands, even though, if I were alone, I would grab a shoe, hold it at arm's length, and hope to kill the spider on the first try so it couldn't angrily attack me for my onslaught.

Yesterday, I was feeling miserable, as usual. I'm not miserable every day, but lately Sundays have been excruciating. I want to bang my head against a wall in hopes that the pain in my head will distract me from the pain in my soul, but mostly I just rock back and forth like a neglected Romanian orphan and wish someone would give me a hug. So yesterday, I was moping and telling Lizzy that I didn't want to go to my meetings; I just wanted to go back to bed and wake up on Monday.  She said, "You know, this morning, I was dragging my feet and feeling miserable, too, but you are so much worse, it makes me say, 'Get over it!'" So I got over it enough to go to church where I stared at the floor for the better part of three hours and fake-smiled at everyone who talked to me.

Today, I feel marvelously better, mainly because it is not Sunday. I was pouting only slightly that this boy I like is not interested in me, when Lizzy told me that her crush just started dating someone else. She is too upset about it, so upset that she awakened me to my own irrationality, and now I cannot pout, even a little. Don't get me wrong, I feel bad for Lizzy, but the only thing I can think to say other than "I'm sorry" is "Stop being so irrational."