I think I may have a yearly cycle in addition to the usual monthly girly one.
I woke up with a case of the "don't wannas"—an idea I was fairly certain I'd shared before. Indeed, almost exactly a year ago, I wrote this:
After going along for several weeks feeling more or less okay—and even semi-enjoying my little homemaker gig—I suddenly find myself in a near-constant state of "had it up to here."
This is exactly where I found myself this morning. As I scowled through a stripped-down version of my routine, I also noticed the twinges of sadness and heart-heaviness that I cheerfully refer to as "depression lite."
The thing that separates depression lite from depression classic (for me) is that I remember being happy.
Just a few days ago, I was totally happy! I'd been going along fine—feeling pretty healthy, moving every day, attempting to say kind things to my stretch marks, showering my husband with affection, enjoying my work—and then the boulder rolled back down the hill.
Well fuck, I thought, staring at the hugeness of the struggle in front of me. That I have to tackle again. For the bazillionth time.
Oh, and Westley seems to have a cold.
For a few hours, I gave up. I put on a bunch of TV for Westley. I didn't shower. I read the kind of essay that usually helps me feel better except that today it made me feel like shit because I used to be smart like that, damnit. I ate two handfuls of chocolate chips and a big spoonful of Dijon mustard.
Then I called Rob.
I wailed about never being recovered, always having that fucking boulder to push and gravity to fight. Rob listened without trying to fix anything while I complained. Then he promised, "At least one of your e-mails will make you laugh."
I felt my jaw relax as I smiled. "I guess it's normal to have a bad day and feel like crap. People have those, right?"
"Right." I think I heard him smile on the other end of the phone.
The day improved slightly when I acknowledged it as a "normal bad day," and not, say, proof that I was destined to feel awful no matter what I did.
Despite Westley's cold, he and I managed to have some fun. (The kid is almost never sick, so when he is, even a little runny nose can knock him on his ass for a day.) And Rob was right about the e-mail. This is what he wrote:
So I tried out the "reading on the treadmill" thing this morning and it was okay. For one thing, not wearing headphones left me in a position to realize that the song playing at one point was the unplugged version of Warrant's "Cherry Pie." Let me say that again: the unplugged version of Warrant's "Cherry Pie." You know, so we can appreciate the musicality and poetry of the song.Indeed.