This has been sitting in my drafts folder for quite some time now. Probably a good five weeks of it waiting to be edited and published for my gazillion...ok, five followers. There has been a lot going on over the past eight days and that has changed my perspective. But I will save that story for another post.
To say I have been in a funk (and not the good kind of Funk), since Big B left, is an understatement. I have been in the weeds quite a bit lately trying to get control over my house, single parenting, purchasing and repairs done on an investment house on the other side of the country and finding a place to live in our new duty station, three colds and one hurt back. Yes, I know. Some of those reek of first world problems. I finally had to pull the rip cord and admit it. Hi, my name is Laura and I am depressed. Then you say, as in true 80's Sunday night TV movie where the mom alcoholic finally goes to rehab and admits she has a problem, "we love you Laura." --I know you are probably only 25 and do not have any clue what a Sunday night TV movie is. But there was an awesome one with an alcoholic mom/daughter, I don't remember. Her name was Pat and she finally went to AA. She said "I'm Pat and I'm an alcoholic." Everyone in group responded with "we love you Pat." That was a joke between my mom and sister and me for years. I love you Pat. It would make us roll with laughter. But I digress...--
I had the epiphany that my depression was far gone with a couple of different things happening to me : 1) A week or so ago, someone asked me how I was doing and if I had anyone to help. I told her that I did not have family nearby. She said, no I mean anyone? I was not sure what to say. Should someone be helping me? I am just a big old loser with no help, or is it that I did not ask for any? I am not good at asking for help anyway, and I do not see that changing anytime soon. The conversation was relatively benign. But the expression on her face really stuck with me and the fact that I cried for at least one hour afterwards was my first indicator that I should probably be on meds of some sort. 2) The second thing that happened was someone asking me how I was doing. I said, fine, but my faking it voice was not fully tuned up for the day. However I said it must have sounded bad because the person touched my arm and said "ohhhh". Like the I feel very sorry for you and I think you are actually going to fall over type of "ohhhh." Truth: I did feel like I was going to fall over and I almost started to cry again. Seriously, enough of the waterworks.
I think crying at a drop of hat and feeling mentally beat down are decent signs that I need to take a step back and get my act together. This pit is not new for me. It has happened several times before and happened after I had the three-footer and toothless wonder. It is difficult to admit you are feeling emotionally unbalanced. Let's face it, people really can be Judgy McJudgersons often. There was a time over a month ago that I was having problems getting dinner to the girls on time. They were not starving, I assure you. Our sit down dinner was just always late. I mentioned it a handful of people. Whether they realized it or not, their first reaction was always a look of ugh, with a mouth twist, and/or eyebrow raise. Really? Really? That shut down the L feelings share factory.
Things have been rough with Big B gone. I am not asking for a medal or anything. I am doing what I get paid for. I am not asking for a constant string of high fives. I am not asking for a constant string of help. In life, everyone has their own sack of shit to carry. I know that and I do not expect anyone to carry mine. I only need people to know that sometimes I cry while carrying the aforementioned sack of shit. I guess all I wanted was to stand up in my virtual group therapy session, say it and then hear everyone say "we love you depressed one." Now let's go get the free coffee and donuts.
Wait until you read the next posting. The girls and re-enact the movie Contagion. It is riveting.
Thanks for reading.
LL
