No, I'm not dead. Or, I'm not physically dead. My brain has been in a bumbling deathlike stupor. That once useful organ has knitted it's own shroud out of dryer lint and cat hair. No...knit is too strong a word...any part of my brain that could once claim to be creative has turned it's back, dropped it's drawers, and shown me exactly where I could kiss it.
I don't think I've been this depressed since I was 14 years old. That was a low year. People then knew that I was sad and eventually I worked it through. People today probably can guess that I've been sad and I think I'm working it through. Unfortunately that means I've laid low for a month.
It also may mean that I need to make an appointment with a doctor that doesn't practice in my tiny town. Something is wrong with my body and it is nothing I can point a finger on exactly. As is usual my hormones are all over the place with all the associated symptoms. It's an evil cycle...the hormones make me sad and anxious and then I grow a beard...then the hormones ease up and I'm sad and anxious because I've grown a beard...then I shave the beard and I'm sad and anxious because I get ingrown beard hairs...then hello PMS!
I'm unsure of why it's all bubbled up at this particular time in my life but right at this moment I'm working through the sad, anxious beard growing by stuffing my gob with white chocolate truffles. As long as I don't eat the whole package I don't have to layer guilt onto my anxiety. I stopped at my serving size and I won't be too full to take my B vitamins and my probiotic. Acidophilus is an excellent poop enhancer. Constipation would make this whole mess only that much worse.
Part of how I worked through being sad in my teen years was just to throw myself in things to do. Last night I was compelled to look through boxes of family photos for my son's high school graduation slide show and found my teenaged albums. It looks like most of what I found to do was groping boys but there were also photos of activities that didn't require saliva. I scanned a bunch of those, posted them to my Facebook and I was happy.
Memories are nice.
But then I found something to do in watching zit popping videos on YouTube and my happy descended into this weird ecstatic nausea.
That feeling is better than sad and anxious. I'll take it.
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