Depression

What is depression like?

Depression turns life into a gray, flat world.  Nothing stands out.  Walks with the dog become therapeutic.  Sitting in the sunshine becomes Vitamin D therapy.  Writing, talking, baking, become therapy.  It turns my brain into mush.  I can't remember things.  Everything that I need to do becomes overwhelming.  Nothing is easy.  Sleep is no longer restorative.  My body feels like it weighs a thousand pounds, something that has to be dragged everywhere.  Depression would be frightening if I had the energy to care. 

This year has been difficult.  Work has been very difficult.  No friends have died though which is something I'm very thankful for.  My patients keep on dying though.  Patients I cared about.  Patients I've hugged.  The deaths seem to have added up as a heavy weight on my soul.  A friend at work just lost his wife to breast cancer a few days ago.  She was my patient too.  A lovely lady, kind, gentle, loving. 

But wonderful things have happened too.  We moved into a house.  The big guy and I have our own home.  We're close to our granddaughter.  All five of our children are healthy and safe.  We're getting married into a month.  All good things but stressors as well. 

Today I have more energy though.  I'm thankful.  My garden is blooming.  I'm thankful.  The big guy hugs me lots.  I'm thankful.  I dried my sheets on the line yesterday.  I'm thankful. 

A pelican in the pond behind our house.  One of the big guy's shots.

I haven't been writing much.  There seems to be so little time.  I miss it though.  Miss putting my thoughts down.  It helps keeps the black dog at bay, mostly, but there is only so much time in day.

Right now I have sheets hanging on the line to dry.  I'm eating chocolate cake with chocolate, orange ganache.  The dog is laying on the floor behind me, watching the cat who is sitting on the counter.  The big guy softly snores on the couch behind me.  It's a beautiful, hot summer day.  We spent the morning with our granddaughter and my stepdaughter at the zoo. 

It's pretty much a perfect day.  I have to remember that it takes so little to be content.  The floors are dirty, there are dishes in the sink and the laundry needs folding but there will always be dirty dishes and laundry that needs folding.  Right now I need to relax and stop worrying about what comes next.  I spend so much time about what comes next that I forget about right now and rush through it. 

I'm going to try to slow down.  We'll see:)

Things I'm thankful for today.

The dog is settling in. 
The cat is ignoring the dog.
I cut down a tree that I needed to this evening, all by myself.  It wasn't a big tree, but still.
Also cut down and dug up a nasty rose bush.
Painting the dining room a lovely soft green.  Goodbye dark brown.
Walked the dog.
Got my hair cut.
Had a day off work.
Made apple muffins.
Saw pelicans the other day.  OMG!  What amazing birds!
Summer.

What are you thankful for today?

I worry about my son.  I thought that when my children were grown I could stop worrying but that is not the case, even though I know that worrying does no good.  He's not happy.  His criminal past hangs over him, dogging him.  I feel bad for him but he also refuses to see reality.  I suggested a course of action for him and he refused.  I suppose that's all I can do. 

I'm no different.  I often have a hard time with reality, like to bang my head against the wall, hoping for a different outcome that never comes.  Perhaps most of us are like that.  Maybe I'm not the only one.

The big guy and I spent a few days I the mountains.  It was damp and rainy.  I had a minor meltdown, stomped my feet and pouted.  I wanted certain things to happen.  I wanted to be in control.  As usual, I was not.  The universe intervened.  I was forced to slow down, find alternatives, challenge myself.  Things did not go as planned and as I result I got this lovely shot above. 

I obviously still struggle with letting go.  I still believe I can bend the world to fit my view.  It's not happening.  I learn.  I forget.  I relearn.  I reforget.  Dammit!  I forget to breathe, forget to let go, forget to be. 

The mountains help me to remember how small I really am, how little impact I have over anyone beyond myself and my own breath.