Talking to Mary, you know you don't have to shout
She can hear what you're thinking like you're saying it right out loud
--Elliott Smith, lyrics from Talking to Mary
Instead of focusing on a lovely
Thanksgiving dinner that we had at home, instead of admiring the Christmas tree
that we bought and decorated the day after Thanksgiving, instead of
congratulating myself for starting to clear out the garage this weekend, I
chose to sink. Wrapped in half bedclothes, half street clothes, and finally
just carrying a blanket wrapped around my shoulders, a portable bed if you
will, from bed to couch and back again. I could barely keep my eyes open and
just decided to let myself drift into the boozy slumber of a depressive
episode. Waking each time reminded me how utterly perfect my sleep had been and
caused me to crave it even more. Asleep, I can’t be prickly with my husband or
grouchy with the dog. Asleep, I hurt no one. My sweaty cheek with hair
plastered to it pressed hard into the pillow. Sweet relief.
I am quite sure that depression runs in my
family. I believe that my mom suffers from intense depression, suffered many
years before my brother was murdered. His death gave her depression a valid and
physical shape. As a child, I remember playing in the living room while she
slept in the bedroom in the middle of the day because she had a headache, every
day. I often trip over trying to determine if I “learned” to be depressed and
that’s why I sink or if I just inherited the faulty strand that carried the
cocktail. I’m better today and will probably get better as the week takes its
slow turn around the bend. This is a tough time of year for so many people. I
never think of myself as one of the people who has it tough. Even in sinking
grief, I found compassion and salty tears for others. I don’t like to focus on
what’s wrong. In my depression this weekend, I started to fear losing my
husband. During a glassy eyed TV spell, I acknowledged simply that he will die
before me and that when he does, I will not continue. It was a clear sentence
in my head. I will not continue. It’s hard to think with that kind of clarity
now, awake and functioning.
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