I was in danger of being swallowed up by a big Blob of Depression. A tiny bit seeped into my bag on my way home from work on Friday and then got so big on Saturday it left me grappling for a stick to pull myself out for the rest of the weekend.
It seems to kick off when I am too tired to cook or go out to eat and there is no good food in the house and no kids around to cook for, so I eat crap (which the Blob seems to love – especially Fritos corn chips) and feel worse. From there, it’s a quick jump to, “No, I don’t want to get up (ever) and leave me alone (forever).”
God bless Bruce, as my slings and arrows seem to bounce off of him like bullets on Superman. He disregards everything that comes out of my mouth and seems unfazed when my head spins around and I start cursing. Of course, the bad thing is, he does this when the Blob isn’t anywhere NEAR me, too.
I tried to work on my duvet, so I could check that off my to-do list, but it just suddenly seemed so f-r-e-a-k-i-n-g BIG-ASS now that I was paralyzed just looking at it. (But I did figure out how I’m going to fix it.) And then I got a call asking if Cordelia wanted to go to Budapest and could she leave right away. Normally, that would pull me out of a funk, but it barely registered, and the Blob just burped with satisfaction, settling in around my feet.
Still, I forced myself to give Cordelia a much-needed stent in her neck (an out-patient procedure she tolerated very well), hair extensions and a new outfit. All this took about an hour-and-a-half, and the whole time the Blob was right there, now up to my knees trying to suck me into the abyss, and whispering sweet nothings in my ear:
Have you seen your laundry room? I can’t believe you’re sitting here making an outfit for a doll (sorry, it’s not even attractive. Even Cordelia doesn’t like it) when you have no clean underwear. What is wrong with you? Did you even work out today? The counter. Couldn’t you at least clean off the counter? When are you going to the grocery store or do you have to wait to the last minute like you always do? You don’t even have one flower planted. That’s pathetic. What are you doing about the dog’s ears/the income tax return/Adam’s transfer/the carpenter ants/the unwashing dishwasher/the clogged sink/vacation? You’re still eating beef? Do you know what raising cows does to the environment? It takes you till Thursday to do the easy Monday crossword puzzles. So yeah, just sit there making hair extensions for a doll while Rome crumbles, loser!!!!”
Today I am a wee bit better. I do better sometimes during the week, with a packed schedule. The Blob has to stay in hiding so that others don’t see him. But he is still RIGHT THERE.
4 comments:
Spray that Blob with water and freeze his butt! You are prioritizing and doing a good job of it! Cordelia's more important than that other stuff; her public awaits! Love your writings! Hugs, Lynda
Mary, THE BLOB isn't depression, it's that freakin to-do list disguised as THE BLOB that is overwhelming you! I have been downed by the mundane laundry, garden, undone but I can't imagine what it does to a creative person like you! First of all do nothing until you want to do something. Then knock out that list. With heavy patting on the back as you do it. I recommend (though I'm sure not sanctioned by the AMA) one celebratory cocktail in the evening and a full recap of all the marvelous things you have accomplished that day (even if it was just surviving.) I am not making light, you know. I feel for you though I am just a distant-friend-relative-sister-like person. Love, Coach Joan RAH!
Ah, my friends. Good advice on both counts!
Cordelia agrees with you whole-heartedly.
And Coach Joan, you simply need to visit. It is settled.
Hey, Mary: The BLOB was dragging me down tonight until I ready your post. Now I'm LOL. Thanks for the relief!
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