Saturday, May 22, 2010

Dipping My Toes in Crazy Lake

This morning I heard the bells of the church across the street ring five times. What that means is that I was awake prior to five, most likely opening my eyes for good sometime around 4:45. This has been my pattern of late -- falling asleep on the couch before 9, and then rising way too early -- and I don't know how to get out of it. Going to bed late does not mean I will magically sleep until seven.


I'm feeling way dysthymic. Blogger doesn't register that word, and so as I type, it remains underlined in red, driving me mad.

For those of you with little knowledge of mental health terms (be grateful, really), this means I'm about knee-deep in a depressive funk. I've been that way for several weeks now, coming out here and there, but mostly remaining in it. I sequester myself, hurrying to and from events, wanting to get out and simultaneously dreading it. I try to force myself to do things, chanting my pathetic mantra: I will do this, I will do this, I will do this. But it all seems too much.

This morning, my daughter's preschool is having a fair. I volunteered to make something baked, and you have no idea, it was like I signed up Dinner Impossible, and my task was to scour a forest for ingredients and then create an entire meal for a wedding party of 200. And I'm like, what the fuck can I make with tree bark?


Sometimes I think I should be in therapy. Except there really are no issues. So it would be a tragic rehashing of the story of yet another relatively privileged, lucky person, expressing their discontent.



Therapist: So what brings you in to see me?

Me: What do you call it when you don't ever feel like doing anything, ever?

Therapist: Laziness?

Me: Dude. Ouch.


I wish this dysthymia came along with zero appetite. During my last major depression, I got down to 116 pounds. It was great.

Wait. No it wasn't. Because I couldn't leave my bed. Forget I mentioned it.

You should have seen me yesterday, mopping up the brownie batter left in the mixing bowl. I used strawberries to do it.


My husband is already outside, putting me to shame with his industriousness. I had a load of clean laundry in the dryer for a week.


If you meet me out and about, and I seem fine, go with it. If you meet me out and about, and I start crying uncontrollably, I give you permission to slink away and pretend you don't know me.


Sarah said...

ok, first of all? this cracked me up:

And I'm like, what the fuck can I make with tree bark?

second, god, do i feel you. i think i'm chronically dysthymic. EVERYTHING feels like a hurdle. wish i had some advice. but i do commiserate.

MemeGRL said...

I think that's motherhood with kids this age. Or at least mine. I feel like I hoard my energy for the next crisis.
Ok, that's probably my kids, not yours. But I do find that I simultaneously need more alone time and more grownup time, with both competing for my few hours of "me" time. And whichever I have, I often fret, thinking maybe it's the other I miss more.
And the therapist chat? I'm in that chair with you. Dude. Ouch. Bingo.

RuthWells said...

Sweetie, this isn't good. Is it time for a med check, maybe? Or at least a coffee date? ; ) I'd love to see you, in whatever condition you happen to be in.

Magpie said...

Not fun to be down in the dumps. I know. Therapy might help anyway - 'cause you know it's not laziness.

Anonymous said...

nonsense. I'll put my arms around you, give you a tissue, and then monopolize the conversation, telling you how I know all about it.

I gotta leave for my crappy job now, but I wish I had more time for a longer comment. But it would probably be all about me.

Try to sleep, babe. I'm pretty sure that will help.

Eileen said...


I think it's in the air. Everything is sucking the life out of me right now...even good things. Blech. Work. UGH. House - a mess, and I'm inert. Kids - happy, but needy and sucking the life out of me. Husband - good, but complicated and sometimes draining.

Health - Good.
Job - check - I have one, it pays.
Nothing major to complain about, but still...if I could just hide...

May the moon shift course, or happy flowers blossom to motivate us all or something.

rima said...

Thinking about you.


Fran said...

Oh my - how have I missed this. Hang in there girl, so many good thoughts coming your way. xoxox

Anonymous said...

depression isn't a joke. i have lived it. i take antidepressents now and it makes all the difference. please do consider if you havenot already.

bonnie said...

there's a word for that? for the longest time i thought it was just this strange little aftereffect that grief had left me with.

it has lifted, gradually but slowly. i hope the same for you, only fast. now. lovingly.

Major Bedhead said...

I've been swimming around in that lake for months now. I'm starting to get in over my head now but alas, I have no insurance, so I can't take the nice little pills that make it more bearable.

Therapy may help, even if you don't think you have any concrete issues. You have depression. That's an issue. And if nothing else, it can help to unload it all on someone who's paid to sit there and take it.

Hang in there.

the new girl said...

Two things: As a therapist, some of my favorite patients were the relatively privileged, lucky people expressing their discontent.

And this, if I see you out in public and you start crying, I won't slink away, kid. I'll squeeze and squeeze.


Debbie, i obsess said...

God, Kelly, I can't believe I keep forgetting to read you. (Damn name change!)

(YES, I can too blame that.)

I -- yes. Yes. YES.

Everything you said.


Anonymous said...

You sound shy to me, you really do


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