You know those movies like Freaky Friday, Hot Chick, Switch, Prelude to a Kiss, Big and 13 Going on 30, where someone gets zapped into another person's body and life?I feel like that's happened to me.
I am surrounded by evidence that a colorful person once lived here, someone who liked to decorate, treasure hunt at yard sales and shop. Someone who liked shoes a little too much for her budget.
Someone who liked to do crafts, to play music, to sing and dance, bake cookies and take long, hot bubble baths.
Some brainy overachiever who thought it was a good idea to go to graduate school and earn a master's degree in English. Someone who held academia in high regard, who thought teaching writing a worthy aspiration.
Someone who once held dreams of a happy family and a happy home.
I look at my collections, antique compacts, perfume bottles and costume jewelry, and wonder why on earth I have them. Why all these shoes, when there are only a few pairs I wear anyway?
Shopping is a cheerless chore done only out of necessity. Why do the stores offer so damn much crap to overwhelm our lives? It all turns into trash anyway and things even the thrift stores won't even take as donations.
Singing takes too much energy and so does playing guitar.
Writing teachers are the dogs of the university.
Cookies make you fat.
None of these clothes looks good on me, and most of these shoes make my feet hurt.
My family is centrifugal, dispersing outward with tremendous force, and there is no center. My home is echoing with pointlessness. No one sees it but me, and I don't care.
The person I am now is exhausted and can't remember anything.
8 comments:
Hang in there. You've got a great blog. I'm seriously envious.
Play guitar anyway. Write anyway. Teach anyway. I know you will.
You sound like I used to feel when it was time for the semester to be over.
This too shall pass....and if it doesn't it might be time to visit the doctor for some help....(divorce has a way a sapping the life out of your life, I know).
Indie, I'm not there and I can't know but you have such a vivid way with description that I feel I know.
We all despair. We look at our lives and see the dirty floors and not the made beds. I believe that despair is there to help us stretch for the lifelines that the world throws us--daffodils against a wooden fence, blue eyes in a loved face, the smell of homemade spaghetti sauce simmering.
You threw a delicately penciled lifeline towards the world with this beautiful post. I hope one of us writing back manages to catch it with hands made of words.
A hug for you and your son from my heart.
You need fresh air, and some sunshine wouldn't hurt.
You've gotten some good advice here: Play anyway, This too shall pass. Dwell on the things that you enjoy, and if you don't find them that enjoyable do them anyway.
You have encouraged me, and you have taught me. Even though I'm a crappy writer, I write anyway because I feel that I have something to say. You made me feel better about that.
I have trouble getting through these long, dreary, wet, cold, and intolerable winters that Humboldt County has, so I painted my small 8x12 office white and put bright daylight fluorescent lights in it. I call it my "Sanctum Sanctorium". I turn the heat up to 75deg. I actually enjoy working in it. It even makes it fun to go outside and soak up the dreary weather occasionally.
Mostly, you need to hang in there until things are better, so we can all say “I told you so!”
Some people go through cycles of great energy on the one hand and deep despair on the other. I know I did.
For me, those cycles eventually became overwhelming. I had to ask for help. Specifically, I asked a psychiatrist for help. It turns out I could have saved myself decades of emotional turmoil by seeking that help sooner. But I was lucky. Treatment worked for me.
But then, that's me. My experience may not be applicable to you.
Maybe your eloquence makes your suffering sound more intense than it actually is.
If so, please forgive me for being so personal and so quick to offer advice. You know I am only trying to help.
Anonymous, you are very kind and very gracious as always.
I do recognize this as depression, and I do have medication for it. But I was horrified to discover that the cost of it without insurance is $100 more for a month's supply. We have recently become uninsured (more fallout from divorce). However, I see I cannot cut corners there.
I feel a bit better today, and I think if I keep working hard, I will be able to improve things. There is a job I'm trying to get...
Ernie, I wrote a post today to assure my gentle readers that I am ok. Struggling, but ok.
Improvement #1: fresh haircut
Improvement #2: sitting on the porch in the fresh air, listening to music, watching butterflies, crocheting a pink purse, daydreaming about crocheting little booties for a grandbaby if I only knew how...
Improvement #3: a game plan for survival (which includes, among other things, finishing my resume over spring break to turn in for the job I really want/need AND letting my kids make their own mistakes)
OK, somebody develop a Pandora's Internet LifeSwap.
Indie, it sounds like you're feeling overwhelmed, and need more time to enjoy your life. Like you're mourning for the family and the self you've had to grow away from, yet still needing that connection and warmth. Are you feeling invisible, and want more recognition? It also sounds like you're needing to find significance in what you do, to know that it matters to someone.
You say you don't care, but this whole post is full of your concerns. I try to avoid giving advice unless it's solicited, but if I were zapped into your life tonight, I'd be singing in a long, hot bubble bath (with at least three cookies).
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