One day, I woke up and physically felt my depression LIFT. Yes, grand pianos came up, off my shoulders, and floated away. I was going to write about my cure.
But that was an illusion.
Facebook kept telling me “People haven’t heard from Our Third Thirds in a while. Add a post.” Only today did I look at the blog and realize I’ve been “gone” for months.
During that time, I’ve struggled through Ginger Bugs and conquered them. I now have ginger beer! That is a victory. I have planted a garden. That is a victory. Tim and I took a trip, saw Shakespeare, redwoods, and the daughter. That was a victory. Nevertheless, I watch Tim as he industriously builds and plasters and sands and paints and rakes topsoil and seeds and waters and mows. I occasionally do a really good job cleaning the bathroom. That is a victory.
I re-read Allie Brosh’s Hyperbole and a Half, trying to remember her cure for depression. She discovered a kernel of corn under the refrigerator, found it hilarious, and her depression broke.
I haven’t found my kernel of corn.
A couple of days ago, I went for a run (despite the knee that isn’t supposed to run any more). I only went two miles, but I could feel my body moving through air. I’m not fast, and it was raining, but I was moving through air. That was a little piece of corn.
I got involved in the World Cup. I remembered players’ names, rooted for underdogs, marveled at physical prowess. To watch the last games at Beartooth Theatre, I had to get up at 5 a.m. That night, I had Ideas. I had to write them down. So many Ideas, I never went to sleep. I was so groggy, I ran into the guy delivering coffee to the audience and spilled coffee all over myself.
Ideas, Ideas, Ideas! Having them is one thing; putting them down on paper and drawing pictures is another. It seems that was the insurmountable hurdle. And yet, and yet….
Here I am! I could do it. Something happened. I could physically pick up a pencil and my sketchbook and … begin. I can make no predictions, draw no conclusions, guarantee no results; at most it’s a cure-ish. But I began. I’m here.
Welcome back, my friend.
ReplyDeleteIt's beginning to feel that way. Thank you!
DeleteI think I must be bi-middling, reading your posts on life. I get a bit blue some times followed by inexplicable bouts of happiness. Nothing too frightening nor long; a tad unexciting, really. But then, we all get by, don't we?
ReplyDeleteTo the good times return, Barbara, and may your blues soon become sky.
Oh, I like that: "may your blues soon become sky." I'll remember that. Thank you!
DeleteSo glad you are passing out of that space.....on to more writing and drawing and laughing! Perhaps that dark, damp, dreary spring weather hasn't helped either....I know after a long winter it makes a difference if the sun shines more than not!
ReplyDeleteSometimes I do wonder if it all comes down to weather. But even when it rained, I could always do something creative to rally myself. It's been harrowing to find it impossible to write or draw.
DeleteWishing you all the best. Please know that we DO miss you. Take very good care of yourself.
ReplyDeleteOh, thank you so much!
DeleteYou're inspirational Barbara. Sending you best wishes!
ReplyDelete