Sunday, August 31, 2008

Those jazz standards got under my skin

I am so wary of writing about depression, again and again and again. . .

Is it as wearisome to readers as it is for me (uh, don't answer that)? I go back and forth about this. On one hand, I want readers (and I'd love to see more comments!) I know most people like short, punchy, and humorous writing. Well, I haven't offered much of that! I try to at least find the humor in my depression, in part for myself and in part for others who may be depressed themselves. Yes, there is humor, in spite of the weight of sadness, and there's also beauty, a great deal of it. I so want to tell others that it's possible, yes, to live with depression, or in spite of it.

Looking at blog statistics is like going to a big party (which I did today) and seeing just how many people you don't know, or used to know and wondering why you're sitting all by yourself. People like happy people, and I don't blame them. I prefer people who are interesting to those who are bubbly, but then I'm not exactly the most bubbly person myself. I'd rather get into a good, juicy conversation with someone who's a bit off than a glad-hander any day. But that's me.

Today, I was at big open air post-wedding party. I just couldn't take it. I had to walk away, go sit in my car and let the tears fall. There was too much sadness in me. I felt like I was standing with an invisible bubble around me, making all the sounds of laughter and music seem far away. It felt better to have that be a reality, and sit in my car, where the laughter and music were truly far away and not just an illusion created by my state of mind.

This is the worst part of depression, I think - how it isolates a person from others, just when one needs them the most.

I didn't even know I was depressed today. That was the real kicker. I put my hair up a little nicer than usual, and put a bit of make-up on. Nothing prepared me as we drove to the party for having anything but a nice time. There would be people there I liked, many of whom I haven't seen for ages, good music and food.

I know there are so many people out there who are suffering. They're sitting in their own cars, crying or not. And then we are given pills that are supposed to make us feel better. From what I can gather, those pills are not working, not for most of us (but I take mine anyway - why?)

At this point, all I can say is that I know it comes and goes. I know I have to remember that and hold on to it for dear life. I know I have to also discern what genuinely is causing me grief and what is "just the depression talking". This is another problem that is not addressed often enough. When one is depressed, some things that are real problems go unaddressed. And I wonder - is it maybe those things that continue the depression? It's so easy to blame the depression for ones' sadness that a person can stop seeing that there are some very real problems that need to be fixed.

Anti-depressants don't work on real problems. They need to be solved.

Well, that's all for tonight. Tomorrow, perhaps, I will write about knitting, Palin, McCain, the coming of autumn. . .or that I'm in love with myself when I'm wearing Chergui. Thank you, Serge Lutens (and a certain someone) for such heavenly perfume! Maybe they ought to distribute it in psych wards.

Now I will, once again, type the word "depression" in the box marked labels.

Image Note: I googled "the most beautiful painting in the world", expecting the Mona Lisa to be on page one (but hoping for a surprise). I did get a surprise: pages of the worst crap imaginable. I won't insult the artists nor their admirers by naming them. Maybe that's the "anti-snob" in me. On the other hand (which there seem to many of tonight), it would be interesting to analyse just what is considered to be so beautiful by whatever and whomever caused this array of lousy art to wind up on Google's top pages. Another project for another day.

Oh, and as to the image above, it seemed somehow fitting to post Marcel Duchamp's messing about with the Mona Lisa (1919). Perhaps I should have presented you with Miss America sporting a goatee and mustache instead. It would be fitting considering who's now running for the Republican vice-presidential spot.

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