After about the first week of posting (or trying) every day, I was hit with the fact that almost every day I mentioned how tired I was.
Crap, I thought, I’m depressed.
Not some deep, dark, suicidal, I need medication depression (although if I didn’t find the side effect of no orgasms so depressing, I’d consider some).
And not some oh me, oh my, the barrista got my order wrong and all the lights were red and the sky isn’t the shade of blue I was hoping for kind of depression that can be cured with a glass of wine with a best girlfriend.
Nope. This is just plain old, sit back and relax because it’s going to stay awhile depressed. It’ll never get so horrible you can’t go on, but you also will never feel quite right even in the happiest of moments.
Because I know I will survive and get through this, and I know my marriage and true friendships will remain in tact, I didn’t care that much. Except that being this sort of depressed makes of dreadful writing. DREADFUL. I am too tired (from depression!) to think of a cute hyperbolic simile for how dreadful the writing can be under the influence of this particular malaise.
Great time to get back on the daily public blogging horse!
But, a deal is a deal. And one thing I do know after nine years of blogging, depressed or not, you have to write some boring-ass stuff to come up with the goods. So why not?
I thought about mentioning the depression a week or so ago, when I just really could not get into the holiday spirit. Hi! I had two Christmases with a dead dad that I didn’t have to process because I was too busy caring for his mother! Now she’s dead too! HAPPY FUCKING HOLIDAYS.
But…somehow I preserved. Some lights went up. Some cards got sent. Not in a grit-my-teeth-I-WILL-HAVE-CHRISTMAS-DAMNIT attitude but more because I couldn’t summon the energy to NOT do the holidays. Christmas is my favorite holiday and it’s almost an automatic reflex.
Then the cards got received.
Not the cards to me. The cards to her. Gma.
So today I have been composing letters to people, (some distant relatives that I attempted to contact earlier and got nowhere), letting them know that their holiday letter of yearly accomplishments and triumphs was read second-hand this year. And oh by the way, she died in August.
It has been a difficult day. Here’s to tomorrow being slight less so.