Sometimes I think the images are eating my words. The more photos crowd Photoshop and Picmonkey and spill into my email and camera memory the less my brain can express with language. The Sad Fish is eating my brains like the bad zombie it is, and that with the constant tide of this last year- over a year- of my husband coming back and just barely touching before being sucked back in the dark waters. Medications, purple and blue and white, voodoo magic, I will prick each finger and bleed if it worked. I'd eat bananas for each meal. I'd make brussel sprouts my only vegetable for the rest of my life. I'd lose a hand. I really would, for a lifetime reprieve for him. For us.
You must think of anything else
You can't think of anything else
You must think of everything else
You can't think of anything else
You must think of them.
So you do.
There are bright flashes of other moments but overall there is just the enormous knowledge that what I'm doing isn't working to end this depression and that seeming good enough for everyone else isn't enough even though- even though- it's so much better than NOT being good enough for everyone else, and of course by everyone else I mean my four kids. I've been doing things that have helped- regular exercise for two months now- low sugar, little infusions of good, like TED talks or a funny movie- but at this point I need more. So I'm thinking maybe a support group. Looking into it. I don't want to have to up my medication, I'm on 25 zoloft now, but if I have to, I will. I guess. Blah.
I am constantly thinking of the good, beautiful and the love, but I can't feel it.
That is depression. And everyone who has lost someone knows, an absence hurts. A void has it's own kind of pain that is not like a direct blow, but just as disabling over time.
I am following the Buddhist way and accepting how I feel
Because apparently I have to learn over and over and over and over that fighting the good fight isn't always a sign of strength- sometimes it's a sign of fear, and the bravest thing I can do is admit, surrender, and take care.
Ahoy mates. I surrender.
Listening to THIS " The Sun Is Gonna Shine Again " Steve Martin and Edie Brickell
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