Really.
I’m still here.
I’m not dead.
I’m just depressed.
Kind of severely depressed. Definitely not “air of melancholy sexy depressed.” Which, I am pretty sure, really only works for attractively disheveled musicians.
Nope.
Boring old insufferable depression. Miserable, confused depression. Forgetting what you’re doing in the middle of what you’re doing depression. Libido-killing, ennui-filled, disenchanted with life depression.
All of which is pretty much the opposite of sexy.
So, you know, I’m not really sure what to post.
No one wants to hear some random internet broad whine. And, whining is pretty much all I want to do.
So, you know. I thought I’d say hello, at least.
Have some naked.
9 Comments
Twitter: jennylynwrites
I’ve been wondering where you were. I’m sorry you feel blue.
If there’s anything I can do, I’ll do it. Just ask.
Twitter: joandefers
Also, OMG, congrats on the Al Fresco acceptance!
I know this state of being well. Well enough to know that even this short post took a marathon effort. I’m sorry, and I hope you find your way out of the abyss soon.
Twitter: MsLilyLloyd
Hi, Joan —
I’m so sorry that you’re experiencing the neurochemical flu. I’ve been there and it truly fucking sucks.
Email me if you want to talk, okay? I wish you a speedy return to health.
Twitter: joandefers
Yeah, I usually do the winter blues thing. Even in really good years, by January I’m just worn out and sun-deprived. This isn’t a good year, though. We’re losing our house, possibly losing our disabled kid’s medical benefits, and maybe losing a job. It’s just a lot.
Twitter: MsLilyLloyd
Oh, Joan. Honey. I am so sorry.
Hell, anybody with a smidgen of soul and or gray matter would be pretty depressed under those circumstances! I’ve forgotten where you live, if I ever knew, but I’ve got pals in various places who do all kinds of flexible housing stuff, and I would gladly put you in touch if that would help.
My kids are — I’m not sure how to characterize it — different, maybe. Trying to keep them on the train feels really grueling sometimes — healthcare, the fucking fuck damn school, where is the backpack, I feel an urgent need to hurl invective at my husband because who else will I yell at?
Anyway, I get it, some of it, anyway.
Plus I have Einstein the mouse in my kitchen. I swear that little fucker is sitting around doing calculus and laughing at the traps.
So have you gotten to the really angry stage yet or is that behind you? I’ve come to believe that anger and despair are the high and low energy states of the same emotion, and that I prefer anger, which explains my Volcano Goddess temper — I’m trying to stave off the feeling of hopelessness.
Twitter: joandefers
I don’t really do the angry thing. I do the dissociation thing.
My kid has ASD. He’s awesome, but it’s just a lot of work/worry and a lot of not having any idea what 5 or 10 or 15 years from now is going to look like.
Also, I am really glad we don’t have very clever mice. I did, however, drop and break my last coffee cup last week.
Replying to something like this after Lily does always makes me feel like the dunce in the class, but my sympathy goes out to you as well. With all of that going on, you do have every right to be depressed. It’s a lot of weight on you.
I get it. This time last year I felt like you – SO MUCH on my head and heart, that culminated in my best friend’s suicide (and his birthday would be today, so it’s on my mind especially right now).
Hang in there. If you need to talk or vent, email me – I understand the need to ‘whine.’ Lily looks like the better choice, but I don’t mind being a backup.
Twitter: joandefers
I’m sorry to hear about your friend. Really, it is a “hang in there” thing. It’ll get better.