I don't know what medical science is doing with its time and money, but doesn't it seem a little bit strange that the intravenous morning caffeine drip has not been invented? Or time-released caffeine? Alors! The closest metaphor for me approaching a waking state, (and that is an ocean of stumbling away from alert or an ability to operate the heavy machinery that is my person), is evolution from a primordial ooze. Seriously. From newt to chimp as I struggle toward homo sapiens. That's a lot of ground to cover in 30 minutes or so.
Hope, that thing with feathers, got plucked in the Spring department; it's cold and snowy again. There are only moderate patches of snow on the ground, but we were getting out our cottons and linens. Putting on our puffy coats again is some kind of return to incarceration.
One of my street finds in the short moments of good weather was Carrie Fisher's Wishful Drinking. And while it is a glib and entertaining book, she does capture some of the ineffable aspects of depression. Those of you who never experience some of these things can count yourselves lucky in these respects. Some of these feelings are inexplicable and alienating even when you are feeling them. "Really? Gosh, this is NOT what I want to be feeling or thinking. But this damn brain and my broken heart [not a romantic broken heart, a life spirit broken heart] won't stop."
By the way, I do not feel this way at the moment. But I HAVE felt this way. And this is a good description.
"...I'd been feeling overwhelmed and pretty defeated. I didn't necessarily feel like dying—but I'd been feeling a lot like not being alive. ... my mood disorder, which was, no doubt, the source of the emotional intensity. That's what can take simple sadness and turn it into sadness squared. It's what revs up the motor of misery, guns the engine of an unpleasant experience, filling it with rocket fuel and blasting into a place in the stratosphere that is oh-so-near something like a suicidal tendency—a place where the wish to continue living in this painful place is all but completely absent."
The questions when feeling this way are two: why and how can I get out of here (the feeling not necessarily life)? As you might guess, it takes a lot of courage and energy to hang through that kind of feeling repeatedly.
Neither Sisyphus nor Atlas are trying to cavort with me at the moment, so I will return to Ella Fitzgerald, Marcel Proust, and das kittehs.
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17 of 100 May 24th It is hard to make plans to have fun when you would rather disappear into the earth. The depression continues, yet I am s...
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15 of 100 25 April 2023 I had a hell of a time getting that #14 post out. It has been so long since I have used my laptop and other devices,...
loved this whole post, but found the opening paragraph particularly brilliant. i think i start the day as an amoeba.
ReplyDeleteand i also dug puffy coat = return to incarceration.
you really nailed the crushing feeling i experienced when i heard the week's forecast.
i adore ms. fisher (have read all her books), and am not at all surprised to hear you're a fan.
I concur with the intravenous caffeine wish, although time-release would be less painful.
ReplyDeleteThe coffee excerpt reminded me of this summer in Portland with Teri. We had a friend take us to the grocery store. We were in a suite that had a small kitchen. We wanted to take advantage. We bought coffee of course. Our friend asked us why. The hotel we were in served a very nice breakfast spread every morning and then there were very nice coffee shops to go to all around our hotel. She thought perhaps we didn't need to purchase a pound of coffee for three days when we had so many nice options. I responded, "we need coffee to get coffee." That has since become one of our catch phrases.
ReplyDeleteSince I am sharing. I never feel sad when I am depressed. I feel nothing. In fact, if I felt sad I think I would prefer that. I definitely relate to the don't necessarily want to die but could not care less weather I continued living. I think that plays in my response to deep depression. I have never really attempted suicide, but I go walking in the ghetto at 2 in the morning. My version of Russian Roulette.
Trying again to post...
ReplyDeleteDebee, I LOVE the "need to have coffee to get coffee!" And today was a perfect example. Woke up to NASTY weather with slush and snow and terrible winds in the forecast - I needed coffee to get out of bed to get coffee! And if I wasn't depressed yesterday, I will be today.
Sally, get ready for the storms as they leave us. Another week of "incarceration" for the Midwest, and I pray that all the daffodils, tulips and hyacinths that were blooming yesterday manage to survive the onslaught!
As for Carrie Fisher, I've always felt that she was a kindred spirit of sorts; that much pain is a terrible thing to live with.