Wednesday, October 01, 2008

cue the Cymbalta, and the dark wood paneling*

They say depression hurts. Despondent folks staring into gray spaces; neglected dogs and dishes littering the way back to bed.

I say I wear depression well, a sly beast with dull teeth, gnawing at my ankle, more irritating than painful.

To the untrained eye, Depressed Me looks a hell of a lot like Normal Me, only a bit more tired and quiet.

I could pin the tail on a number of asses to explain away these blues that will surely pass. Yesterday, I stopped chiding myself over the words that would not come - writing fiction is grueling at times; I am out of practice. I didn't follow any BREAKING! NEWS!; I took a satisfying nap before the kids came home.

I put my mind to rest over what my next chapters should look like; the next chapter in my book, the next chapter in my life as my husband's career soars, and my kids are growing up and slowly away from me.

This hunger feels necessary, natural right about now, the preamble to my mid-life.

And resting a bit and giving myself a break seemed to bring me back to the moment, sandwiched between my kids, each of us reading before bed.

No sorrowful music played in the background. I wore a cheery pink t-shirt, straight out of the wardrobe department saved for holiday sales and baby lotion commercials.

Cymbalta would not approve.

Depression is an unwelcomed guest. She may have to make other arrangements.


*I couldn't help but think of Jimmy and His Many Panels of Wood over at Beanpaste.


Kimberly said...

So sorry for the hurting, but kudos to you for putting it into words so well. It isn't so obvious as the commercials paint it to be. We aren't walking stereotypes. There are no boxes to check off on some invisible list. Vacant eyes, check. House falling to pieces, check. It's not that simple.

Other arrangements sounds like a brilliant plan.

Scribbit said...

I'm so sorry for how you're feeling--funny how you never know how someone's hurting. Some people seem to be able to hide it well.

THinking of you-

so NOT cool said...

Good-bye, depression. Come back when you can't stay longer! ;)

(I don't mean to make light of it, but if by any chance it made you smile ... SO WORTH IT.)


All Adither said...

Nicely written.

Nora Bee said...

Nice writing, mama milton. I hope there are no dogs with questioning eyes and full bladders in your future.

phd in yogurtry said...

My depression doesn't look anything like the commercials, either. And not many of my patients, either. I am more irritable, frustrated, impatient .. just an overload of negative emotions. Then eventually I become unmotivated. Don't want to leave the house.
Too much effort. But I don't sit around sighing. I keep in constant state of motion and unproductivity.

Tricia said...

Perhaps depressed reflection will lead to new growth, new words and new happiness. Wish you the best.

Beck said...

I like the Depression Outfits in the Cymbalta ads - comfy sweatpants! Big zippy sweaters! COZZZEEE.

Sorry you're bummed out. Sometimes it's productive, right?

missburrows said...

I used to sit and watch the fish at the Aquarium. But we don't have one of those nearby a nice fire, a comfy chair and a good book helps too (The Heathman has all three.)

Denise said...

So true! It comes in all different shapes and sizes...different colors too!

Glad your making other arrangements!

San Diego Momma said...

I'd say you have a lot of self awareness.
And sometimes, sometimes, depression is a normal "season" in a life and is situational.
Either way, I hope it passes -- or if it's necessary -- that you learn from it!

flutter said...

and the bathrobe, you forgot the bathrobe

brandy101 said...

I am sending hugs and prayers O:-)

stephanie (bad mom) said...

Oh how I love you, friend. Your words are perfect.

(You know how my depression looks - organizing like a lunatic and general avoidance of all things productive).