June 20th, 1975

June 20th already. Well into summer. This year is speedballing, too. Just like the past two years have. I am amazed at the pace that Richard and I operate at. 

I don’t know how to explain this, but my dark depression of the past few weeks is lifting. Things have gotten much nicer inside my head. Now how do you explain this? Nothing has changed. My job is still as stress-oriented and pressured as ever. The problems and headaches and difficulties mount and grow. I get yelled at all day by Henry and by customers on the phone.

Yet suddenly my spirits seem buoyed. I feel some subtle confidence. I can dive in and do what needs to be done and be proud of it.

We’ve been keeping the house neat and tidy for the past week. The psychological effect of a clean house is invigorating. Plus we bought beautiful carpeting– oriental– for the living room and dining room. And a few more bits of “things.” A gaudy ceramic vase in the shape of a woman’s boot. Pretty glass ashtrays.

But the point is– it isn’t creating in me all that old depression. I have been practically suicidal this last week or so.

Now– for no apparent reason, I feel genuinely high.