Sunday morning broke as a glorious June day. Absolutely perfect conditions outside to do...well, anything. It was the kind of summery before summer gets annoying and humid.
But all I saw was blackness and all I felt was pain in my core. This is fucking great, I thought. Here's the summer depression I know I get. My OCD and anxiety and everything kicked in at once. I cried and told my husband I didn't want to live anymore. Just like that, the words spilled out of my mouth. That's how I was feeling. But then hearing myself say them, I was incredulous. What was I saying? Did I really mean it? That's when I knew I could turn it around with a bit of pushing.
Salty D. listened and made me look up, stand up and walk out into the sunshine. He put me in my favorite purple fake-Adirondack chair in our front yard and said, "Sit there. Close your eyes and put your head back. Do it NOW!" That was the push I needed.
So I decided to play the viola to refocus my brain. I put on my sneakers and went for a walk by the river. The plants by the trail smelled heavenly. I don't know if it was the honeysuckle in bloom, or what. Against every voice in my head, I freaking went to McDonald's for the first time in a few years and bought a small order of fries and a Diet Coke. Each fry got bathed in ketchup. This too was heavenly. I love ketchup.
I drove to my favorite decrepit shopping center to go to my favorite grocery store to buy the hoisin sauce that I forgot the other day, and I picked up a couple of magazines.
Back at the purple chair, I sunned my sunscreened self in a big black hat from Uniqlo, with some cheesy AM-radio-reminscient music playing, real iced tea, with my trashy magazines, one with the not-so-shocking headline about Matthew Broderick and SJP's split. So I know all about that now. Ask me anything about that.
I prepped vegetables for the week and mopped the kitchen floor which had splatters of BBQ sauce all over the place.
All of these menial tasks and steps were really important for my self-care.
D. came home from a day with his friends and asked if I had talked to anyone - and not on social media, he said. Why? Twitter counts. "No," he said, "pick up the phone and call someone in person."
No, I said, I still couldn't bring myself to call a friend when I felt really really low. Honestly, I don't want to bother someone, who's having a terrific day, with my depression. I just can't do it.
Besides, I turned myself around with a little help from my husband and some online friends. So thanks.