Friday, April 28, 2006

Blue Period

I'm not happy this week. I want to climb into the hills by myself and just stare out at a nice view for a long long time.
Alone. All Alone.
Unfortunatley, this is impossible because I live in the middle of a big city, I kicked my husband out, I have two little kids to take care of by myself, no gas in my car, no money, no motivation, no fun.
Mental health wonks call it depression, thats a good label, if I weren't so depressed I'd think up a better one.
Many of the best writers and artists are/were (before they off-ed themselves) depressed: VanGogh, Picasso, Hemingway.
So they drank, screwed everything in sight or cut off their ears, whatever, not that it helped much.
In our civilized society, experts and scientists diagnose mental illness then treat it. Much of this treatment comes in the form of medication. There seems to be a med for every emotion we feel.
I'm not going to go all 'Tom Cruise' on psychology and anti-depressants, but I don't think medications are the magic answer.
I don't have chronic depression, I don't spend my days lying in bed, refusing to get out. I just feel like shit once in a while and I want to enjoy it.
Thats why I cling to my fantasy of sitting on my mountain-top, all alone, for a long time. Breathing. . . in. . . breathing. . . out.
Maybe drinking some tea (mate) and smoking some weed (stanky), that usually makes me feel better.


At 9:00 PM, Anonymous Nicole Hale said...

I've been living with this hellish disease for 5 years and some days are better than others. I wish you the best with it and let me know what I can do for you.


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