LIVING LA VIDA LOCA
I'm prone to depression. It appears to be a family thing, but nonetheless, I'm prone to it.
I read somewhere once that people who have a creative bent -- artists, writers, musicians -- they are more likely to have depression-like tendencies. Nice. Not that I'm tooting my own horn, but I consider myself a writer and have been from the time I could hold writing utensils in my hand, and so, therefore, I finally understand why, as a small child, I had very deep, very dark thoughts that, quite frankly, if one of my kids shared with me now, I would sprint down to the school counselor with ... but I digress.
I'm thrilled that I've managed to keep it under control without the use of meds, not that I'm making any sort of commentary or passing judgement on anyone who happens to find the use of meds beneficial. However you make it through the day, props to you!
When I was laid off for the second time, I went into a tail spin of depression that I think sometimes I'm still trying to dig my way out of. I didn't completely drop my basket during that time, but I certainly wasn't using my entire brain ... ever. As you can imagine, I was terribly vulnerable ... not so good ...
One of the things I notice during one of these fugues is there's a shut down ... a disengage ... I don't really plug in ... I appear as though I do, and hopefully, I've played that part well. The fact remains, I leave everyone at arm's length. I doubt there's a person out there that could tell me what is really going on inside because I just don't let anyone in there.
This weekend, something has lit a fire under my rear. I'm ready to be engaged ... ready to plug in ... and man! I'd forgotten how that feels ... to flip the disengage button and let it all sort of course through my veins. It's both invigorating and deafening at the same time.
I think I got used to the slug lifestyle during my "staring at my same four walls" phase. It didn't require any work so I just continued down that pathway. This weekend, I decided to cut the crap!
First thing I did was turn off the TV and turn the radio on. I LOVE music. It's passionate and emotional and sensual, and I've realized that my wiring requires that ... passionate, emotional, sensual reactions to life. It's what makes my little world twirl on its axis.
I've rocked it all weekend, probably to the disdain of many neighbors. I'm sure I've killed ten or twelve nerve-endings in my ear canal. This means I'll be an earlier candidate for Miracle Ear ... a lot sooner than originally planned, but I could FEEL the music coursing through every fiber, and it felt good!
I pulled out my Great American Novel and wrote ... I spent five hours in front of the computer writing and rocking it out ... it felt good ... it felt right ... it felt like living.
Number 36 is staring me in the face ... in just two or three short weeks, I will be four more years closer to 40 (STOP LAUGHING, ANN!). That's scary and exciting at the same time.
I don't want it to fly by without me touching each moment ... savoring it all.
I read somewhere once that people who have a creative bent -- artists, writers, musicians -- they are more likely to have depression-like tendencies. Nice. Not that I'm tooting my own horn, but I consider myself a writer and have been from the time I could hold writing utensils in my hand, and so, therefore, I finally understand why, as a small child, I had very deep, very dark thoughts that, quite frankly, if one of my kids shared with me now, I would sprint down to the school counselor with ... but I digress.
I'm thrilled that I've managed to keep it under control without the use of meds, not that I'm making any sort of commentary or passing judgement on anyone who happens to find the use of meds beneficial. However you make it through the day, props to you!
When I was laid off for the second time, I went into a tail spin of depression that I think sometimes I'm still trying to dig my way out of. I didn't completely drop my basket during that time, but I certainly wasn't using my entire brain ... ever. As you can imagine, I was terribly vulnerable ... not so good ...
One of the things I notice during one of these fugues is there's a shut down ... a disengage ... I don't really plug in ... I appear as though I do, and hopefully, I've played that part well. The fact remains, I leave everyone at arm's length. I doubt there's a person out there that could tell me what is really going on inside because I just don't let anyone in there.
This weekend, something has lit a fire under my rear. I'm ready to be engaged ... ready to plug in ... and man! I'd forgotten how that feels ... to flip the disengage button and let it all sort of course through my veins. It's both invigorating and deafening at the same time.
I think I got used to the slug lifestyle during my "staring at my same four walls" phase. It didn't require any work so I just continued down that pathway. This weekend, I decided to cut the crap!
First thing I did was turn off the TV and turn the radio on. I LOVE music. It's passionate and emotional and sensual, and I've realized that my wiring requires that ... passionate, emotional, sensual reactions to life. It's what makes my little world twirl on its axis.
I've rocked it all weekend, probably to the disdain of many neighbors. I'm sure I've killed ten or twelve nerve-endings in my ear canal. This means I'll be an earlier candidate for Miracle Ear ... a lot sooner than originally planned, but I could FEEL the music coursing through every fiber, and it felt good!
I pulled out my Great American Novel and wrote ... I spent five hours in front of the computer writing and rocking it out ... it felt good ... it felt right ... it felt like living.
Number 36 is staring me in the face ... in just two or three short weeks, I will be four more years closer to 40 (STOP LAUGHING, ANN!). That's scary and exciting at the same time.
I don't want it to fly by without me touching each moment ... savoring it all.
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