For the last few months, I've been crossing things off my to-do lists with a fervor unparalleled in recent years. And with each completion, I breathe a sigh of utter relief and think to myself, "I'm glad that's over." I watched in passive horror as my life became a series of obstacles to be tackled. "Obstacles" that at almost any other time of my life I would have considered adventures, or at the very least, small treats to be savored like a glass of fine wine at the end of a long day.
I realized this last week as the weather chilled a bit and the first signs of the "-ber" months appeared. On my way to some place or other, as I longed for a bonnet on my head and a jacket to keep me warm and dry, I repeated what has become my mantra as of late: "I'm glad that's fucking over." As in summer and the rainy season after that. As in my favorite season of the year, the season that represents all that is good, gloomy, right and grey in the world.
To say I didn't enjoy my favorite season this year might be a bit of an understatement. I was depressed. And not in an "I want to kill myself, or at least start dressing in all black and wearing severe make-up like Angelina Jolie at the Oscars, the one where she made out with her brother" kind of way, but a more subtle sort of depression. One that kind of pollutes the air, hangs around like smog, turns my world an ashy shade of grey. And try as might, I couldn't seem to rise above it.
I can't recall the exact statistic, but there's a pretty high percentage of people who will experience what experts call "mild depression," or "dysthymia" at some point in their lives. Of course, other people suffer from it more than the rest because the world is simply an unfair place as evidenced by unwanted body hair, Republicans, and Kirstie Alley's career. Lots of things can trigger mild depression, but for me, I think it was a combination of boredom and loneliness. Or maybe it was the thought of a Britney offspring soon entering the world.
Whatever the exact reason, I was blue. And I use the word "was" cautiously because it's only in the last few days the fog has seemed to lift a bit and I'm starting to feel "normal" again. Maybe it's starting with my new job and being kicked back into a routine again, or reaching the platform just in time to catch the train the last 4 times in a row. The point is, I'm actually looking forward to things again, rather than seeing everything as an event on my to-do list to cross off and celebrate being done with.
If nothing else, watching that violent hurricane in LA and MS on tv and seeing the horrific aftermath and how devastating the loss for so many people has been and will continue to be, I can't help but think how fortunate I am to have nothing but boredom to bitch about.
Everyone should be so lucky.
borrowed from: trailerparkjesus
I realized this last week as the weather chilled a bit and the first signs of the "-ber" months appeared. On my way to some place or other, as I longed for a bonnet on my head and a jacket to keep me warm and dry, I repeated what has become my mantra as of late: "I'm glad that's fucking over." As in summer and the rainy season after that. As in my favorite season of the year, the season that represents all that is good, gloomy, right and grey in the world.
To say I didn't enjoy my favorite season this year might be a bit of an understatement. I was depressed. And not in an "I want to kill myself, or at least start dressing in all black and wearing severe make-up like Angelina Jolie at the Oscars, the one where she made out with her brother" kind of way, but a more subtle sort of depression. One that kind of pollutes the air, hangs around like smog, turns my world an ashy shade of grey. And try as might, I couldn't seem to rise above it.
I can't recall the exact statistic, but there's a pretty high percentage of people who will experience what experts call "mild depression," or "dysthymia" at some point in their lives. Of course, other people suffer from it more than the rest because the world is simply an unfair place as evidenced by unwanted body hair, Republicans, and Kirstie Alley's career. Lots of things can trigger mild depression, but for me, I think it was a combination of boredom and loneliness. Or maybe it was the thought of a Britney offspring soon entering the world.
Whatever the exact reason, I was blue. And I use the word "was" cautiously because it's only in the last few days the fog has seemed to lift a bit and I'm starting to feel "normal" again. Maybe it's starting with my new job and being kicked back into a routine again, or reaching the platform just in time to catch the train the last 4 times in a row. The point is, I'm actually looking forward to things again, rather than seeing everything as an event on my to-do list to cross off and celebrate being done with.
If nothing else, watching that violent hurricane in LA and MS on tv and seeing the horrific aftermath and how devastating the loss for so many people has been and will continue to be, I can't help but think how fortunate I am to have nothing but boredom to bitch about.
Everyone should be so lucky.
borrowed from: trailerparkjesus
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