i’m crying a fair amount, but now my eyes hurt and i’m trying not to.
i’m meditating most days. a guided meditation, so i have even less opportunity to think. thinking is the enemy.
i’m working part time in a flower greenhouse, to learn, because i’m dreaming of having my own greenhouse lately and goddamnit, those things are not cheap and are a whole big deal. they arrive unassembled, goddamnit, and empty. (laughing.)
i’m gathering all my dreams into a big pile to see what I can make of them, try to make my life something more independent, more in line with the joy and the contentment I have and want more of. fuck ‘work in the schools’. swear to god, i hear that one more time and i will buy a gun.
i’m sinking into a deep melancholy that I feel in my chest, losing one of my best supports and loves is an unbalancing force, and I am aware, and so I am doing my best to reach out and gather new supports, and use the ones I have. hello sister. nods.
i’m fine. its january. things percolate. i have a working coffee maker, and vitamins. i’ll make it.
I know. Its with a certain amount of chagrin that I say this, knowing how I’ve been complaining these past few weeks.
My projects wrapped up. and while there is a tiny thing I could do, I’m finding myself utterly at a loss and swept away by emotions. I do blame perimenopause for some of it, yes, but not all.
working for myself, at home, is not an easy gig.
i’m thinking i might go binge on the walking dead, because i can hide from the gratuitous gore and just hang on to the mystery of who is going to survive or what will ever cause things to get better. (i’m on season six somewhere so don’t say a word.)
the kids are also away this weekend and i’ve had them for the past two, so there is this gaping maw sensation. I’ve got some entertainment in my social life these days but i’m thinking i’m going to take the weekend off from that too. and so, its just me, and tv.
never fear. i’ve got a crockpot going and have fed the chickens and things look normal from the outside. but still. this month. tsk.
Its nice to think about cooking good food. I’ve been assigned brussel sprouts and butternut. Plus, mashed potatoes. All will be well. I can actually just live on those, anyhow, so we’re good.
love you guys. hope your search for food will be fulfilled.
And yesterday I asked to just do a half session because I was boring myself.
If that’s not hysterical, I don’t know what is. There could be an entire skit about this.
These are the days of Bartleby, I tell you. I’m still adjusting to the kids being in school full time, it is so weird to have the house empty all week, and it just keeps happening. I just joked that I kept eating all three lunches. I do crack myself up, depressed or not. Probably save myself a dozen times a day.
This is the third week in a row, of full time schooling, this year. I’ve had them home for a year, with me, growing right in front of my face. There will never be another year like this, I know. I miss the hungry buggers, it is so unsatisfying to have them gone all the time. so very. There is too much time in the day, and yes, I wish everyone else had this luxury and could show me how to handle it. I feel like the family dog, eddie. He’s morose now, with the kids gone all the time. Lots of depression sleeping, more than normal anyhow.
And I hope you know my titular reference, but in case.. Bartleby the Scrivener was a famous character in a Melville serial, famous for saying “I would prefer not to” and those around him were powerless to affect him in any way, because he just kept replying that way. Bartleby, please remove your things from this office…. make me some copies of this… for instance.
“I would prefer not to” is entirely descriptive of a mood that swings through me daily. I get up, I do my thing, I try to protect the hen-pecked chicken, (i’m really not sure she’s going to make it, i want to isolate her but I think that might make it worse- she could lose the few friends she has…) I water the plants, I tend, I tend. I do the things. I do. I even write, or think about writing, or talk about writing. I do. I text. I reach out, gently. But I don’t wanna. I am feeling the ‘force yourself’ of mild depression or pandemica or whatever this is. I’m tired of forcing myself. I want to feel the clarity of ‘I want to.’ and ‘this is fun’.
I’m not joyless or anything, not at all. I am still a beauty hunter and I see it all around me. it’s just not ‘moving me’ like it used to. I need to be dragged, and the ‘to-do’ list of errands and chores is not an effective hook.
side note: there is an actual robin’s nest outside my window, and I watch baby robin’s daily now. So, being depressed in the face of that miracle is really damn hard, so I deserve some kind of medal, right?
second side note: i am starting to make plans to see friends for coffee. so i am trying, actively. super-actively. well, for me.
GIVE ME A MEDAL! DRAG ME OUT OF MY FUCKING HOUSE!
no, i am not asking you to do that. I am just going to put it on the list, though. See if I can force myself through this shit.
I’ve got this sort of cyclical depression going on and I’m trying to figure it out. watching when things go south. I know its pandemica but the hills and valleys must still be lived through. And I’m already on antidepressants. So, I’ll be Holding my hand when I feel myself slipping downwards, taking a good hot bath. Reaching out very gently to friends who will yell or support, either is fine. I have a therapist, I do not feel a danger to myself. (dingding.)
I haven’t got work this week, like i said already. (God! I so hate repetitions. I’m almost afraid of them. Does it mean I’m/you’re not paying attention?! Apologies all around.)
Yesterday was full of things but I FELT morose, which is damn sucky. The things I say to myself are just incredibly vicious. So today I am being more pro-active about it. I will be reading, taking my herbalism class, making sure I am warm and well-fed, without judging myself for having leftover butterchicken at ten am. (Oh good god, it was so good. I will eat it again for dinner, and tomorrow too. Even the kids loved it. It just needed little almond slivers, which i forgot.)
Do I really need a job outside the house, just to battle this shit? Because how can I write at all if I do that? Why God, why did you have to make cinnamon gummy bears bad for me?
I’m off to a bath soon, and I did get to my writing group this morning, and maybe I’ll try to save my poor begonia instead of seeing it as proof of my suckitude. Aye? Depression can suck it today.
Give me a topic to write about. Seriously. I beg of you.
Its been a shit week, friends. And today will be long. Yesterday I took a nap in the middle of the day, and I think it was because I was upset still about conversations from Wednesday. The old memories cause bad dreams, wherein I fight for something I am doomed to fail at. (primarily my self-respect, hello?!) So I don’t sleep well, but sleeping in the middle of the day? This is a bad sign, for me. It makes me worry. I only left the house to do pickups at 4:30. Dinner had been prepared the day before otherwise these kids would’ve had takeout. Believe it or not, I just can’t afford to get takeout every time I’m bothered.
There are times when working at home is not all that easy.
This week I’ve had three days in a row with no kids here during school hours, and I haven’t even had to drive anyone to and from school. I think the schedule-less time is a challenge for me. I need a structure as much as I say the kids do. Yesterday, when I slept? I was supposed to be maintaining a certain number of words written in another project. I did not.
*And yes, I am gentle with myself and yes, I know it is a pandemic, still. So I make my coffee strong enough to peel my face off, I have a to-do list that will provide a certain amount of structure. I have a few animals to care for and a tax form to sigh at. I’m here, and I’m on it.
I’m going to spend some time today making a house list. What the hell are my plans for this place? Are plans just dreams? How can I get it to be a help to me instead of a millstone? I think I can do it, I’ve just got to make another list, I think.
*Its still a hard time, for all of us, and sometimes I feel like the weather change is actually hard. this spring stuff, because it takes me longer than I think it should to shuffle off my winter’s growth. I need the shearing first, and comfort is not as easy as taking off a winter coat. First its a risk to even remove it, right? Then there is the inevitable chill. The cold nose, the chapped fingers. I’m not ready.
so, yes, I’m fine. and its friday, which feels completely irrelevant to my life at this point. so fuck it.