Brain Barf

May contain traces of nuts.

Monday, August 07, 2006

The Full Monty

I've always struggled with mild depression...Well, mild usually.
I also struggle with seasonal depression.
I feel in my bones the aching grind of summer's last efforts.
I hate being tied to a "kids in school" schedule.
I love having the freedom of sleeping in late, and when we finally wake up, we pack up and head to the lake on a whim, and swim until we are exhausted, but snuggle on our beach towels to watch the sunset, and then come home and pile on the ONE sofa, even though there are two others, and watch movies until we start twitching and drooling.
Back to depression: I really don't, at this point in my life, feel like I "suffer" from depression. Sure, summer ending sucks, Aunt Floh sucks, but I generally take the hills and valley's in stride. I really AM one of those happy, annoying, never-stop-smiling people that you would like to punch.

I really FEEL...GOOD.
Just, sometimes, the downslide sucks me in.
This hasn't always been the case, and I can't believe I'm telling the internets this, because, I'm very self conscious/self aware when it comes to my depression issues.
I feel like it is a "weakness", and weak things are OK, unless they apply to me.
But, you know my blog, I get nekkid here.
There was a time, about six years ago, where I had been treading for far too long, and I had the depression quicksand in my lungs.
My twins were 1, my girls were 7 and 5. I was moving from my home/family/support system, away from the most beautiful place on the planet, Seattle, into the Eastern Washington Desert...Not by first choice.
Sagebrush sucks.
My husband got transferred. I had to quit my job, that I had worked my way up for six years, and started at as a single Mom. Quitting this job was leaving a whole other family. But that's a different story.
Anyway, my husband, back in his sensitive years, knew how hard of a time I was having. He knew how hard I had worked for my job position, he knew how hard it was having young super needy children, and how MUCH I didn't want to sell our first home and move to the desert, away from my family/friends = free babysitters. :o)
He rented us a beach house, at our favorite beach and arranged babysitters for an entire weekend. WOW.
The ocean is usually very therapeutic for me.
This time though, it was in the dark depressional spring fever month of February, with ALL of the other issues hanging over me.
I woke up before dawn and went down to the beach alone.
The tide was high.
It started snowing.
I started crying.
I saw the waves, water, snow, sand and cold in a way I had never seen them.
It was a door.
An exit door.
An easy way out.
Just walk into the wet cold and don't look back, breathe it in.
I waded in up to my waist.
I could never do pills, or guns, but this was something that could look like an accident, and therefore not haunt my children AS much.
I wonder sometimes if the painful cold shakes hadn't kicked in...?
I have to remember this.
To clearly know where I am going, I have to remember where I've been.
I'll never allow myself to wade that deep again.
*Getting dressed*


  • At Monday, August 07, 2006 3:29:00 PM, Blogger Phoebe said…

    You know, you are able to make this frightenly beautiful -- almost appealing.
    My contemplations of just disappearing are always so dull, like a low-grade headache I just can't get rid of.

    I should just leave your posts alone; they're better without my comments. But just know I'm your fan, and I can't believe you posted so much when I wasn't looking.

  • At Wednesday, August 09, 2006 7:30:00 PM, Blogger JoeinVegas said…

    Wait a minute - wait a minute - I missed the naked thing. Where is the naked thing?

    (I try and joke when I don't know how to respond. We care)


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