TB, the new therapist, is good. We had a nice get to know you session and I go back in two weeks. That said, I am in a major funk as of this morning. Yes, Jamming Jews went really well, thanks to my able pseudo Jewish support tag team of Sophie as well as Percy and Phyllis with Percy getting into a rather animated discussion during the break with the Rabbi. It went fine, it really did, and I was finally able to relax Sunday. Now it is Tuesday and the funk has returned. Woke up with a panic attack and couldn't get back to sleep. Then read a missive from my union that involved the MPT and that set off the funk. Nothing I hate more than someone getting a free ride. Now I just feel out of control and wanting to just have the winter fly by. I thought that since the house is new at least the first year of watching the seasons change would make winter a little less dreary. Nope. One snow and I have had it. I am afraid of falling and with that comes the depression. I have hand surgery set for January 15th and that should take care of the problem of the trigger finger. The last injection enabled me to get through the performance. But right now I just feel a heaviness of heart, a burden of life upon me. I don't know how else to explain it.
Depression is insidious. Churchill, Winston that is, or rather was, described depression as a black dog, not that he had anything against dogs, that was just his naming of the feeling. To the French is bête noire, or the black beast. The French are better at ennui. Back to Camus, a Existential plot to kill him, I believe, existed as he was about to renounce and admit that we must think of Sisyphus as happy. Why, I do not know. Here I sit with that black dog nipping at my heels. Some of the depression is due to the holidays, and who wouldn't be depressed. I've had a hell of a life. Death and destruction abound and I an orphan of the storm. It wouldn't be a holiday without a Yahrzeit for my dear Grandmother Dorothy. I feel that fast approaching and I just want the snow and cold gone and for life to renew itself in spring, when I have the dual Yahrzeits of my parents. Ah, hope springs eternal. Dueling Yahrzeits.
Anyway, far be it for me to say I have put and keep myself here. I dislike being here, in a funk that is. I can't cheer up, buck up, or any of the other ups. For me depression is a slow chemical burn in my brain that works its way down to my toes.
Here in the US, every year at Thanksgiving, we are supposed to pause,
and be thankful for all we have been offered, given, have, achieved,
etc., in the past year. It is a wonderful holiday, a time to spend with
friends and family, to break bread, celebrate, tell stories, and of
course, watch American football, and doze on the sofa.
But
what about for those of us for whom being thankful this year, or
another year, or any year, it’s just damn hard to feel thankful?
And I just don’t feel all that thankful right now. In fact, I feel a little bit resentful. I feel angry about it, actually.
It can be hard to be thankful when bipolar, depression, and life’s difficulties are constantly challenging one’s ability to hold on
No comments:
Post a Comment