I Pause in Doing Chores to Write…

Sometimes when you feel depressed, if you do a chore, and it makes you feel better. Sometimes it does not, but at least you got a chore taken care of. So you really have nothing to lose by doing the damn chore. No, making my blog post is not the chore I am thinking of. My blog is not a chore to me, I LIKE writing my blog, even when I can’t think up much to say.

The fact is, I am feeling down and have been for a while. I have mentioned that I suffer from depression. I don’t like to talk about it much, because I don’t want people to think I am looking for attention or trying to get out of doing things or — horror of horrors — just whining. Oh, well, I guess sometimes I am whining, don’t judge. But then I feel it might be good to mention it, in case somebody else might be feeling the same way. After all, a sorrow shared is a sorrow halved; a joy shared is a joy doubled.

I think a lot of us are feeling the winter blues. In addition to the well-documented Seasonal Affective Disorder, some of us have been trapped in the house when we want to get out and about. I mean, there is no point in taking your life in your hands on icy roads if you don’t have to. Or maybe you’ve spent so much time and energy shoveling and snowblowing you’re too tired to do anything (but if you have a working snowblower, color me envious!).

For me, the lack of exercise is getting to me big time. I’ve taken my lovely dog Tabby for a couple of walks the last few days, watching carefully that her paws do not become snow-encrusted (must get her a pair of those doggy booties all the well-dressed canines are wearing). I shoveled this morning, which I believe does count as exercise. I know, there are any number of exercises I can do in the house, no matter what the weather. Sometimes I actually do them. Sometimes I just incorporate more movement than strictly necessary into my chores. That can be fun. Full disclosure: sometimes I neither exercise nor do chores. Don’t judge.

If you are wondering what the point of this post is, I guess there isn’t one. However it is Wrist to Forehead Sunday. And expressing myself in my blog has made me feel better. Now I wonder if I shouldn’t do a few real chores…

Melancholy Musings Will Have To Do

I guess I thought that I could write about my depression once and never mention it again.

As I consider the misconception, I believe it is not that unrealistic after all. I went for almost two years writing every day about my life and never mentioned my depression till recently. That’s pretty circumspect, especially for me.

Lately I have been comforting myself with the thought that I am a high functioning depressant. I make it to work every day and even manage to do a few things outside work. I think there are actually a lot of us high functioning depressants out there. We keep our depression a deep, dark, shameful secret.

Now I’m out of the depressant closet (I hope no gay people are offended that I use their closet metaphor). I have exposed my mental flaws for all to see. I know, some of you are sitting there saying, “Oh, Cindy, we saw them all along. There are a lot. Physical flaws, too, don’t get me started.” You know who you are.

At this point in writing my rough draft, I was assailed by the thought that it is probably very boring to read about somebody else’s depression. It is not till much later, as I type this in, that I think, “So what? I’m ALWAYS afraid my blog posts are going to be boring. I can only write what I can write.”

The fact is, very little has changed since Wrist to Forehead Sunday (yesterday) when I had no Mohawk Valley adventures to write about. One small change: I was in a TERRIBLE Monday funk. It dissipated somewhat as the day wore on and seems to be completely leaving after a gruesome workout at Curves followed by a shower and cup of coffee at home.

So, funk gone, write the damn post, right? Well, I have a rehearsal to go to (preview of coming attractions). I’ve got time to hit publish. I’m going to call this a Middle-Aged Musings Monday and drive on. Hope to see you on Tuesday.

From Downer to Endorphins

I suffer from depression. There, I’ve said it.

And having written it, I sit here and stare at the sentence, asking myself if this is really what I want to write a blog post about. Of course it’s not. In the first place, I’ve always said I like to keep my blog positive. Why would I want to write about a downer subject like depression?

Another problem is, a lot of people don’t “believe in” depression. “Oh, just get over it,” these people say. “Pull yourself up by your bootstraps.”

Have you ever tried actually pulling yourself up by your bootstraps, or sneaker laces, as the case may be? I have not, but quite frankly, I can’t see it working. I’d probably end up flat on my back with my feet over my head, looking perfectly ridiculous. Might give anybody who happened to see it a good laugh, but I can’t see it doing me much good.

Almost worst is the well-meaning person who says, “Why are you depressed? You have a wonderful husband, an adorable dog. You have a house and a job,” etc. That makes me feel even more depressed, because what kind of a lowlife can’t be appreciative of Steve and Tabby?

So, no, this is not the blog post I want to be writing.

That was as much as I managed to write on my break at work. After work I went to Curves and worked out really vigorously. I burned a new record of calories, according to the computer. When I announced it to the other ladies, they cheered for me. I got a great shot of endorphins and endorsement! So I don’t feel depressed any more.

However, Steven and I have to be leaving soon to go to Ilion Little Theatre for second auditions for his show, Dirty Work at the Crossroads. Long time readers, if any, will remember that this show has been rescheduled from October to May. I don’t have time to write a new, un-depressed blog post. I have to shower and change.

Anyways, if nobody shows up for auditions, I will have a reason to be depressed. Stay tuned.