I feckin' chickened out. Got there 30 minutes late and stood outside the restaurant, looking in at a table full of people laughing, talking, eating. Knowing that I didn't have the nerve to walk in and interrupt. That I couldn't possibly be welcome in there. I hugged myself tight, but just couldn't. Take. That. Step.
I turned and hustled away, trying to put my arms down, struggling to look as normal as possible, hating my scaredy-cat self. I took myself to the bookstore, since that's usually a treat, but I was on the verge of tears the whole time. I couldn't think of anyone to contact for support or encouragement or sympathy. So I went home. I didn't really feel like talking to anyone anyway.
I did some cooking, which filled the house with good smells. Then curled up with the new Charlaine Harris/Sookie Stackhouse book and my cat and some homemade cinnamon kettlecorn. Yes, kettlecorn is completely against the rules for Primal Blueprint, but I'm on an ice cream detox and I felt the need to eat my feelings. It worked fairly well, too. I quit picking on myself, got some decent sleep, and am resolved to try again next month. I do feel a bit bruised and weepy today, but I'm sure it'll be better soon.
@depression--I'm still not talking to you, so get lost.