So for my two faithful readers, and the third person who occasionally stops by and knows to whom I’m referring, I would LOVE to have more time and energy to write, but life sucks and I’m in depression mode. 5 or 6 weeks ago, I think, I started feeling the wave approach. My Boy Scout thing for the fall is disappointing so there’s that. Add, 3 weeks or so ago, my mother-in-law died, under medical “care” and “practice.”
Life’s other “issues” continually keep me realizing how much more money I need than what I have, just to keep the plates all spinning. Well, mostly tires and car repairs I can’t afford, but yeah, one of the teeth I need is starting to ping a bit. The expense of mental health counseling, if I had to foot that bill, would add, as my daughter has had a few triggers recently and is feeling more depressed. God help me if I actually went to counseling.
And then, just to add a bit of comedic irritation, my cell phone fell and broke after flying off the car onto the highway. Well, it made my daughter laugh (at me). Apparently THAT’s too important for me to do without, though, for Mrs M. She immediately ordered a new one ($50 is no problem, but a few thousand we don’t have is what is needed for teeth and car things.
I’ve had the week off to be available at home for any crises while the kids are off on fall break. And to be a driver, and to try to get rid of popcorn since my scout and the rest of the troop with him, have had a disappointing year of sales while I’ve smiled and encouraged and promised prizes for high sales. Well, disappointing to me, just because I’ve got to return what I can next week. I don’t want to do it next year. Maybe I’ll just help whomever replaces me. I promised myself I’d clean, well, I haven’t had the energy for more than just bare-minimum maintenance- dishes, trash, nothing really extra. So there’s the self-disappointment too.
Of course we could add Mrs. M’s chronic disappointment. Unless I surprise her with having completed several tasks about the house, in addition to carrying on with other life-commitments I’m going to drop as soon as possible, she’s disappointed with my lack of effort.
This morning on the news or whatever they did a segment talking about how people are lonely and depressed and how bad that is. They talked about how people don’t connect online as well as people need to, and how face-to-face interaction is superior to online interaction, to which I say, perhaps, and perhaps bullshit. I don’t WANT to interact face to face with people if I can avoid it, and I frequently feel better connected, and fine with it, with a few of my readers, than I do with people that life forces me to interact with face-to-face.
I went to the doctor and lied through my well-concealed panic and my holey teeth that the medication is helping me concentrate and helping me with my depression, he renewed it. I’m thankful because I have no fucking clue how I’d be if not for that little bit of help. I mean, maybe it’s helping and I’d be worse without it. But maybe we have different expectations about It is not getting better yet. I’d rather have not had to go at all. I still have too much stress and things to keep spinning. If I do nothing, I’ve done nothing, and if I do something, it’s never enough.
I understand my daughter’s depression full well, but she’s involved in school and weekend work and a huge Girl Scout project that I get to help with, and researching and testing for college and financial aid, and other things, and keeping her plates spinning is depressing her. The poor baby. Her dad should have been rich enough to handle things, and optimistic enough to have not passed along any of the negatives of life along. But alas, she got this one, and he sucks.
Mum said that when watching someone do something, performance or whatever, at the end, if you can’t celebrate because you enjoyed it, celebrate because it’s over. Well, the plates are spinning (cue some circus music for the freak), the shit’s everywhere and after the show there’s the cleanup, I’m enjoying my own show almost half as well as everyone watching in disappointment and a hint of horror, and I can’t wait until it’s over. But yeah, I’ll celebrate when it’s over. If I get a chance to clean up after.
I’m not suicidal, not since I was 14 or so, but I am rather depressed. So I might respond to you, I might not; I might write in my blog, I might not; I might accomplish the house work shit (just picture a hot guy in a french maid outfit, complete with the black stockings with the lines up the back, drinking coffee), I might not. But I know if I try I’ll feel less in agreement with all the disappointed people in my life that I have to interact with. Was it Good Morning, America?
I’ll bet I’m not the only one who wants to cry at the end of Pink Floyd’s “The Wall” because the court and the mob wanted to take the protection “Pink” had built around himself. It feels cruel and inhumane. My bunker? No, don’t tear it down. Tell the real world to leave me the fuck alone until I am ready to come out and face it. Which, from the state of things, may be never.
On the plus side, with the stress and all, I’ve lost more weight. And Mrs. M hasn’t filed divorce papers. OK, I wrote something, for what it’s worth. Time to do something so Mrs M doesn’t make me feel completely worthless. It may be true I’m not worthy
But I think I might at least try to do something to show I care.
Here’s to coping the best we can, and hoping for better days and fewer plates to spin soon.