I don’t have a name for it.
It’s a feeling, instead.
It’s like a gremlin sitting on my chest, pushing the air out of me enough so that I can breathe in enough to stay alive, but not quite enough to get the feeling as though life is free and easy. I can picture this little gremlin – he’s green. Horns. Beady eyes. Pigeon-toed and knock-kneed.
I am very grateful for my life. Very, very grateful. I have the kind of life I never thought a loser like me would ever get to live. What I feel – and what I write here – is in no way a detraction from the degree of love I have for my life and those in it.
But I guess sometimes no matter how much time you spend sitting on a sofa, how much you stare inwardly at yourself through the carcass you call your body, or how many reams of tissues you cry your way through, sometimes the truth is there are those in the world who are prone to dark, to gremlins. Very rarely, I’ll get into a place where (gremlins again) I almost literally can’t talk. It’s as though it’s just too much effort to talk, to make conversation. It requires too much energy, too much spark, too much of something of which I am short of.
No matter how beautiful and full of light your life is, there can still be gremlins.
You wish things could change. You wish it would stop raining. You wish the laundry would quit spitting out laundry. You wish there could be peace and quiet in all parts of you. You wish people would stop demanding things of you in a way that make you feel like a tiny human being. You wish you would quit doubting that you could do those things people demand when you can, you fucking can. You wish you could stop feeling things in degrees Fahrenheit. You wish time would either slow down or speed up but for Christ’s sake, stop just hanging out here. You wish you could reach out be a better person. You wish you could be a better person. You wish you could just be better, full stop.
I still can’t sleep, and I’m tired all the time in a way that makes me feel as though I’m 80 years old.
I’m not stupid – I recognize this morning some of what’s going on. I got the blues, baby. I got the blues. Minor baby blues, it’s not major at all, just tinted that side of the spectrum.
Nothing else to do but pull myself up and keep going, right? The body wears out but the mind keeps going. I need to paint myself in rainbow colors, and I need to start with the gremlin. I need to stop feeling dragged through life backwards, naked, upside down through a field of cactus. I was sitting there thinking that instead of living life, life is living me. Only that’s, you know, a pretty fucking stupid thing to say.
I’m not sure what I set out to say here, so I’m going to stop talking now.
-S.
- Meanwhile, I continue the search for a cure.
And yes, I took the featured photo myself.
I’m sorry you’re struggling with the blues. Here’s a bit of wisdom I learned years ago that may help. What you need is some good ol’ Monty Python’s “The Life Of Brian”. I don’t remember all of the last song, but part of it went like this,
…Life’s a piece of sh*t
When you look at it
Life’s a laugh and death’s a joke it’s true
But when everything seems rotten
Then there’s something you’ve forgotten
Just remember, the last laugh is on youuuuuu.
(chorus)
Always look on the bright side of life (whistling)
Always look on the light side of death (whistling)
Just before you draw your terminal breath….
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SJUhlRoBL8M&feature=fvwrel
I’ve cut & pasted the lyrics in my memory, but those are some of the lines in the song. It’s such a funny, light hearted look at life and all the crap it hands us.
And you thought I was going to quote a Bible verse. Maybe next time. : )
Right there with you sister. Right. There. With you. <3
Maybe you need an emergency viewing of Elf?
Ha! I’ve always thought that I’ve never been able to get properly depressed, because I can’t stay in bed staring at the walls. Well, I can do that for a short period of time, but then I have shit to do. Glad to know that I’m not exactly alone in that attitude.
I hope this passes soon…
Nothing to say other than I’m here if you need to vent/cry/talk or just have someone to “be” with. You’re not alone.
I have those days, too – they creep up unexpectedly and you can feel them getting their tentacles around you before they strike hard. Everything is exhausting, the very thought of laughter is sickening, and you wish there was a word for the feeling. It’s not just depression, because it’s physical, too, but it’s not quite pain. And when you’ve run through all the things you’re supposed to do to get it to go away and still feel it, there’s nothing left to do but lay on the carpet crying. And then you notice the carpet is dirty, so you have to get up to vacuum. Even in those dark moments, there’s shit to do.
The best advice I have is not terribly good, because it only works for me about half the time. But that’s better than anything else. So here it is: pick a show or movie that comforts you. For me, it’s Friends. Curl up in something fluffy and comfortable and let yourself get sucked in and soothed. You can only do so much to combat it – at a certain point, it’s like a hangover, and the only thing that helps is time.
Slightly unrelated and I don’t know if it will clash with whatever else you’re taking, but have you tried Magnesium? A doctor recommended it for me (for the EDS nervous system dysfunction, circulation issues etc) and it’s been helpful. Less wonky brain driven moods and my hands are managing to stay warm a little. Thought I’d mention it, do with the info what you will.
Much love for the blues. They’re miserable and require copious amounts of love and gentleness to get through. xxx
Well, you know what the say about gremlins:
1. Don’t get them wet
2. No bright light
3. Never, ever feed them after midnight
Seriously, you know where to find me. xo
I like the gremlin metaphor. I call mine The Pit. It is so frustrating when it gets so fucking dark that I can’t see past the edges. I got there for a bit on Mother’s Day. Surprisingly, it wasn’t the fact that Mother (with her dramatic flair) went and died on Mother’s Day at the age of 48. It was looking at recent photos of my two ex-stepdaughters who are growing into beautiful young women. I wish they were still mine. I understand why they are not. But boy does it really hurt some days.
Much love, and I’m always here if you need some gremlin pest control services.
xo
What gives me the blues? The endless perpetuity of routine. The laundry, the “omg pick up your socks and put them in the laundry basket” the “put your plate in the dishwasher don’t just leave it” – it AGES me to repeat myself. Eventually I flip out, lecture everyone and it changes, for a week, and then? That endless perpetuity of the same old same old. I’m thinking I need a gal pal weekend away…