December 3, 2015

I had a long day at work. There was nothing about it that was particularly bad about it, just busy. Diego texted me at lunch and asked about when I would be leaving. I told him he could call me after my dance production rehearsal. The rehearsal was crazy as first rehearsals are. I got bombarded with questions at the end and forgot all about Diego. After the last child was gone, I picked up my phone and saw that he had called 20 minutes earlier.

I called Diego back and he was already driving home. He was going to give me a ride, but started driving home because I never answered my phone. I felt more sad than the situation warranted. In fact, it threw me into a depression. I didn’t understand. I had plans to see him tomorrow. I saw him yesterday. Was it just the culminating effect of a long day or was there something more to my disappointment?

My train ride home was long and boring. I felt too sad to have any patience to do anything productive. Then Diego continued texting me, asking about my period (what is it with this guy and his questions about my menstruation?). I told him that I had started my period a few days ago, yet in that time, nothing had really happened, so I felt obliged to tell him that I was mistaken. He called me a liar. It went downhill from there because I didn’t lie to him about my period, I rarely lie in general, and I tend to pride myself on my honesty. I tried to explain, but he didn’t listen. I had wanted to share my worry because my period generally doesn’t do that, but instead, I found myself having to be defensive, which made me even more depressed.

Eventually, he apologized, stating that it must be a language issue because that’s what Spanish people call those who lie. That did not make me feel better and I again tried to explain that I was mistaken and that I never lied to him. He then continued with his sweet endearments and inquiries about my day. It was clear that he was not bothered by our disagreement.

Later on, he wanted to video chat with me. I was already in bed, intending to go to sleep early. We talked for a long time, then we both needed to go to bed. As we said our goodbyes, he said, “I love you.” (in English). Before I knew what I was saying, the words, “I love you too,” had escaped my lips. We hung up. I stayed awake contemplating his love for me. Was it another cultural difference? Did it mean the same thing to him that it did to me? Why did I say it back? I didn’t love him, did I?


Today I’m grateful for the privacy of my own apartment, my resilience at getting through a day like today, and the love (?) of Diego.

I don’t think I did any acts of kindness today.

I spent 20 minutes in nature today.

I spent $5.75 on parking today.

I slept for about 6.5 hours last night.

I did not meditate today.

I exercised for 20 minutes today.

I did not follow my diet.

I did not straighten or clean today.

I was not showered but did brush my teeth today.

My mood was fluctuated between happy and depressed. My temperament was good.


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