More of the same.

To say I did something useful, I went to work out yesterday afternoon. I felt like such a lump after weeks of indulging in holiday treats. I'm giving myself an "atta girl" pat on the back for getting off my arse at all, much less sweating off a few cookies' worth of calories.

It lifted my mood a little doing something constructive. After I got back and showered I returned to tackling the project of reading through my journals from the past two years. The word that best describes a lot of that writing is whiny, though not without good reason. It's a lot of the same, why do things have to be so rotten, why do bad things happen to me, when will that ever change or will it ever change. That sort of thing. I'm sure if you polled 100 depressives you'd find 99.9 % of those who have journals would read the exact same. And the other .1 % are flat-out lying. It's justified, but it just doesn't always make for varied reading.

I'd like to walk into my doctor's office tomorrow morning and be able to lay out in front of her both the issues I feel we've tackled, those in progress, and those we haven't touched on yet. I say I'd like to, but it may take more than one half of a day (which is all I have left) to be ready for that. It's perfectly acceptable – I've decided – to walk in and tell her that's what I'm doing, and to expect it next time I come.

I think she'll be pleased. She's pleased anytime I take initiative of a forward-moving nature. She probably finds that much more satisfying, professionally, than me just holding down half her sofa, re-arranging her pillows.

In the meantime, there's my family. They have their radar attuned to me at all times. If I escape for a moment they ask, "Where were you?" as though I'd been on a year-long expedition to the Amazon and had just walked back through the door. I guess I should take that as loving, rather than annoying. But there are times I'd like to be able to walk out of a room without a human or canine in tow. I already have a shadow, thanks very much.

Reading through my journals requires not just solitude but also silence. The sound of pounding feet running up and down the stairs distracts me, as does the constant knock-knock on the door where I am. I'm better off holing up in the basement office. I can hear the herd of elephants over my head, but at least: 1). I don't fall asleep, as I do when I read in bed, and 2). it takes the ruffians a little longer to find me.

This afternoon I'll continue my project, after I feed the hungry mouths attached to my gang of shadows. It's just after 1:00 p.m. here, and they're clamoring for breakfast. Such high maintenance, these ruffians!

Next time around I may have a better idea what my goals are for 2009, the subject of my last rant post. I may have some of it worked out, some ideas that will help me feel a sense of accomplishment at the end of 2009. Unless, of course, I change my mind. Which I'm entitled to do. Damn it.

6 thoughts on “More of the same.

  1. Posting your blog is hopefully useful to you. It certainly is to some of us who have had our times of ‘clinical depression’ and can recognise a lot within your rantings, I mean postings. From someone with a lot more years behind him I have some good news and some bad news. First, the bad news – I’m not sure it ever disappears completely (i.e. it comes back sometimes). The good news – it gets easier to manage as time goes on and the gaps between bad spells get longer and longer. I think it also makes one much more appreciative of the good times. People who haven’t been down often don’t appreciate how good it is to be up and what an achievement can be found in such apparently small things!
    OK, end of lecture. Sorry about that…


  2. Lisa – I salute you and hope that 2009 is good for you. I feel, reading between the lines, that you have made progress. I have to say that when I was with my family, I would go to the bathroom, lock the door and in 30 seconds somebody would be banging on it, Are you in there Mum/Elaine? What areyou doing? Are you OK?
    drove me maaaaaaaaaaaaad!!!
    lots of love to you


  3. I really hope that when you read next year’s journal at the end of the year, you find a different story, a happier one. It can happen, and I’m sure it will. As for the peace and quiet, well that will happen eventually, but if you ever find a way to stop worrying about them do let me know!!
    Thank you for your ever entertaining blog.


  4. Carole, thanks so much for your comment. I have the occasional bit of silence, when I retreat to Barnes & Noble for some quality book browsing and writing in my journal. That time is absolutely golden! Thanks again for your note.


  5. Elaine! Lovely to “see” you, and I can absolutely identify with what you’re saying. It still happens to me nearly every day. As soon as I leave a room someone invariably asks, “Where’s mom?”
    And yes, I am making progress. Reading back through my journal from 2007 I can see that, and writing down more notes about my journal entries has proven invaluable. I’ve just read a book on the subject of writing and re-writing as a means of healing, and I can vouch for that.


  6. S.S., don’t apologize! I appreciate your insight, especially since you’ve been there yourself before. Some days it doesn’t seem the clouds will ever lift but others I see the possibility of it. It’s a long, long road.


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