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Tuesday, May 24, 2016

I want to laugh like Chewbacca.

I'm watching Chewbacca Mom over and over because I need her today.
I need to find that laughing, giggling, snorting part of me again because I misplaced her.

That happy part of me went into hiding after an my friend, Deprssion showed up and wiped me out.
I need to smile without it feeling insincere and she has my face hurting from smiling so I will keep watching her until I'm exhausted from joy.


My friend showed up a few days ago, unannounced.
There was no email or text to give me a heads up...as usually, she just appears blocking the door to the kitchen or the bathroom or the backyard and says "Oh, hey...I need a place to crash and well...you NEVER have anything to do so... I figured it would be cool to stay for awhile".

At first, I push her away but then I stop.
I question myself and decide that...well...she must be right;
I have no life. 
I'm lonely.

Plus, I should be a good host.
Show poise.
Never grimace so... I don't. 

I invite her in without ever knowing how long she will stay or if she'll actually pay me back in any thoughtful way. 
She walks in, takes off her shoes and says "So? We're still BFF's, right? You love me?"

And as always, I nod and say "Of course, you're the closest thing to a sister that I've ever had.
I love you, Depression. 
You help me feel. 
You help me see what a unlovable wreck, I am.
You wake me up to how terrible everything is...I mean what am I supposed to do? 
Mindlessly enjoy breathing and living when everything is the world is going to shit?
Thanks you, Depression.
Make yourself comfortable and stay for as long as you need."

And so she does.
My friend, my sister..Depression.
Despite knowing that she never makes any sense and her stories are usually convoluted lies that distract me from what's good in my life... I can't seem to shut the door on her, no matter how much I journal about gratitude or smile until I mean it.
There's a morose charm to her that finds its way in.

She takes over my brain, my heart, my mouth and then gleefully pushes all the sore spots until I start paying attention.
I find myself impulsively pressing on the bruises and scratching the old scabs.
I tell myself that they need my attention. 
I'm being so brave by facing all of my ugliness.

I look at all those wounds and I pick at them. 
I let them bleed again. 
I fall into them and list them as if they are a to-do list for misery.

You are too scattered.
Men will always hurt you because you deserve it.
Your mother doesn't love you and it's all your fault.
You son suffers because you are a mess.
You're friends don't really like you.
Nobody actually likes you.
Everyone things your ignorant.
You're not good at your job and everyone knows it.
You're a self absorbed, privileged brat and will never be happy because you're too lazy to choose happiness.
Even your lists are glib and boring.

Huge sighs begin to arise and I begin the conversation " choose happiness, you idiot. Tell Your 'friend' depression to go away. Think happy thoughts and in 90 seconds you'll be fine.
And if you're not it's because you are a lousy yoga teacher.
A fraud. 
You're a fraud.
A soon to be washed up loser with sun damaged skin, bad teeth and messy hair."

And so she stays. 
She hangs out. 
She eats all of my food and leaves me hungry.
She takes up the whole bed and I become sleepless.
She takes over my words and I become mean.
She takes over and I give in.
I fall, I get bloody and angry and my tongue lashes out with fire.
My body sulks but my bones stiffen with a resolve to stay steady with these thoughts of doom and anger and then...she's gone.

She left.
I'm back in the world again.
Living and loving in this house, this body, this mind.
The sky is beautiful, the taste of a piece of fruit is satisfying, my relationship is salvation and I breathe.
But then I pause and wonder when will she be back?

Will she show up after I get harassed on my morning commute by guys in trucks who think I need to hear there hoots and hollers?
Will she show up after I read about the troubles of the world?
Will she show up after the principal calls to tell me that my child needs to be picked up?

Or will she show up like last time because I accidentally washed something red with a bunch of white which made me realize how bad I am at being an adult?

I don't know when she will visit, again.
But I know she will, so I go back to reminding myself how wonderful it is to rest in my sons bed and feel his little hand in mine.
I remind myself to walk slowly so not to get lost in another angry story that screams with a need for attention because I forgot to pause and look at the scenery around me.
I remind myself that now wasn't then and tomorrow isn't here so when my husband says he loves me...I need to hear it, believe it and say it back.
 And I have to remind myself that laughter has always been my best medicine.
So thank you crazy mom with a Star Wars mask for helping me pick up the mess that my friend, Depression left.
It's swept up and in the trash.



 






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