I don’t think I’m depressed. I’ve been depressed plenty of times in my life and while the initial slide in is often enticing, I do recognize where I am pretty quickly. I’ve also got plenty of good friends to do outside spotting for me. So I don’t think I’m depressed, but I’ve had some crying to do lately.
Some of it was emotional exhaustion. Some of it was feeling like I’d been telling Lee the same thing over and over again and it wasn’t getting through (though I get bonus points for not crying when I told her yet again and she acted as if it was the most obvious thing she’d ever heard and didn’t know how anyone could disagree) and the added pressure of not wanting to cry in front of her because it unnerves her. Most of it was grief over pushing too hard for Ezra when it was clear it wasn’t right for us now, over wanting so badly to do something I couldn’t, over having to deal with two big Catholic families’ big Catholic funerals for my grandfathers, over just carrying too much and doing it alone.
I think those are all decent reasons to cry, and after a few other things fell into place the crying left me feeling better. I managed to make it to the cheapie outlet store and get us bags of clothes that will last us the rest of the year at least. I did read a little bit, though I didn’t really get much writing done. I spent time being sad and I think I actually got through it and am not sad anymore, which is sort of a strange though good feeling.
Today, actually, I’m in a great mood even though I’m back at work after a week off. But I’m still trying to put some systems in place that will keep me from getting so draggy and lonely again. I’m going to keep going to my knit group weekly. I’m still going to host our group’s subgroup book club once every six weeks or so. But starting tomorrow I’ll be back to taking bellydance classes after a year’s absence, and I know my back will thank me. I’m thinking I can do dance three weeks a month and then on the first Tuesday go to my local library’s book group.
I’m just really desperate for a chance to keep my mind nimble, talk to people about things that really matter. I need to be getting my body under control, although buying bigger clothes was a good idea, but the part that wears me out is having insufficient mental stimulation. Maybe I should do more crossword puzzles; maybe I should work more on my Spanish (hint, hint!); maybe I should be taking night or weekend classes at Lee’s school. I just know I need something.
And I need to be writing. Sometimes the blog is enough, and I love this place! But the more comfortable I get with words, the more I miss the ways I used to use them. I’m only active on one messageboard (totally not adoption-related) and it’s going through a huge shakeup now that might leave me with no real “home” there for a while. Obviously I haven’t been writing here daily when I don’t have daily things to say, but I do have something to say to someone or to myself, and I need to figure out how to do that.
Last night I read a book of essays by women about their relationships with money (and money’s impact on their relationships), The Secret Currency of Love. Since these were all women who’d ended up writing (or editing or something similar) and making money that way, I ended up thinking about that. My involvement with Lee’s students last week left everyone asking why I wasn’t a professor. I don’t know; I’d planned to be, but my advanced-degree-free job now pays better and I’ve told myself for so long that I’d have to be over my self-sabotage and stage fright and all that fun stuff before I’d even consider grad school. Or there’s my all-my-life dream of being a writer, which isn’t over now that I’m doing other things but is also not really where I see my life heading either, especially since I’m so obviously and deeply in love with parentheticals and digressions like this one.
So maybe I’m sad because I’m losing dreams, the dream of Ezra, the dream of me as a mother, the dream of me as a certified smart person, whatever it is. I’m not depressed, but I need to get back to thinking, writing, working on myself. I’ll see where I go from there.