Doldrums

Well, it's not the pit of despair, the familiar old Black Dog of depression I tell myself.

And it's not like we have the polar vortex here (we don't).

The sun has shone every day for a long time now (it has).

But sleep calls me too often. I nap long and hard and go to bed and sleep and my time with eyes closed begins to exceed time with eyes open. (Shame keeps this under lock and key)

Not good, I tell myself. (And I stay away from over analysis of the situation, it makes it worse)

I add 2 Tylenols to the CBD oil to alleviate the pain which halts me in my tracks, a bony hand yanking at my collar in parking lots, shopping aisles, galleries. I review the gentle yoga class I took and think: "tomorrow" I'll start this daily follow up process. {Tomorrow is a fallacy. The only change is in the "Now")

I make notes about change, mindful of the mantra: If nothing changes, nothing changes. Which sounds as if written for a simpleton but the kernel of truth lodged within forces me to think about why I am sitting/lying in this home-made waiting room of death.

I bore myself. I text the one friend who understands this malaise, the one being on the planet I can be honest with, who never judges me as I don't judge her lapses and failings. (She crucifies herself with alcohol, I do the same with sugar). We can only share with those who have their own dark nights lapping at their days. Understanding and compassion and no lectures about boot straps and getting a grip (on what?).

What can I commit to today? Emails from the local library, full of books I have ordered on line.

"I will get dressed," I text her, "I will go to the library and then buy some baby clothes for a brand new grand-niece named Hailey. And then I will change the sheets on my bed and work on a client's tax compliance problem that I have procrastinated endlessly that has a vicious grip on my sense of well-being." (Procrastination being voracious in its destructive appetite, boring into the psyche).

We'll see how these tiny changes ripple outwards.

In Real Life

You FBers. Have you ever gazed upon the glamourous, clean lives full of magic unicorns and cuddly kittens that your friends live on FB?

I know. Some of you are not on FB. Well done, y'all.

But for those who are on FB, you understand what I'm saying, I'm sure. Always smiling, children so well behaved and clean, mein gott, how do they manage that - not a bib or a spit-up or sagging leak in sight and smiles on those kids reflecting the beaming pride on their parents' faces. In my time, it would have taken me an hour to wrangle my kids, their father and the assorted animals into a tidy pile, not to mention cleaning them up beforehand and begging them to smile. I had one kid who timed her dreadful faces to the moment the money shot was being clicked.

But I digress.

Yesterday I caught two couples in real life. Really glamourous couples on FB. The first couple (restaurateurs) - loads of happy pics on FB - were staggering out of Walmart with bockity trollies loaded down with tat and were grim-faced and putting out that "don't even look at me vibe" so intensely that they didn't spot me as I pulled into the parking lot close by their jangling, screeching carts.

The next couple (both artistes of some renown, she's about 30 years younger than him) were heading into Starbucks as I was stepping out, clutching my bag of decaff. espresso - I think it's the only company in NL that stocks this nectar of the gods for my late-night snarfling - and I did a double take on them. I don't often see them in real life you see, but the shots I do see have them glammed up and laid back and at spiffy events. Here he was cranky and feeble and honestly, she looked like his granddaughter.

I love catching people in real life. It humanizes them. Makes me realize that the FB status that is projected into the ether does not reflect a normal life balance.

Ever.

Phew!

Same Old Conversation

 

 

I'm driving back from the shop with Leo where we had to get gas for the chainsaw and the ATV.  Leo picked up a 40 ouncer of rum and a few bottles of coke.

Me (M) I know it's your birthday tomorrow, but you're going to be so sick after drinking that 40 pounder of rum.

Leo (L) *giggle* yeah, I know.

M: So that means you won't be able to work for a couple of days.

L: Yeah. *Laugh*. I'll have a grand old time.

M: You'll have about 10 minutes of a good time, then about 48 hours of a really bad time.

L: Ah, who cares?

M: Well I do, because there's still wood to be sawed and put in the barn and you won't be around for a couple of days to fill the bin in the house.

L: I wish you drank with me.

M: No. You really wouldn't want to see that wish fulfilled, buddy. That bottle would end up in a right old battle between the two of us. I'd have to buy another two or three, or four hundred.

L: *excited* We could party for a week!!

M: Well, party wouldn't be the word I'd use. Alcoholic poisoning and wet brain comes in there somewhere!

L: Ah, it's a shame you had to stop!

M: No, buddy.  Everyone around me needed me to stop. And believe you me you wouldn't want to see me start!

Ho Ho Ho

“Gawd!” he sez to me last night, “I just hate this season, how 'bout you?”

“I wouldn't say hate,” I responded, “Indifference would be my default position on it.”

“Ah, good one!” he sez, “How 'bout the rest of ye?”

“Stressful.”
“Frantic.”
“Busy.”
“Unhappy.”
“Depressed.”
“Lonely.”

Not one person out of about twenty around us said:

Happy.
Joyful.
Content.
Peaceful.

“For Gawd's sake,” I said, “Why don't ye all pay attention to those ads and commercials and follow the instructions, like?”

I got a laugh, I did.

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PS My interwebz got unbelievably worse, now offering me days of no connection due to too many users on the system, so forgive me if I'm not visiting you as much as I'd like or responding to comments. I am seriously considering going back to dial-up and twice weekly visits to my favourite WIFI cafe. Desperation-top-of-the-line letters to the premier of this province go unanswered. And right she is - why should the Blackberried One care about her peasants?