“Do you know," Peter asked, "why swallows build in the eaves of houses? It is to listen to the stories.” ~ J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

3.24.2012

the scintilla project. day 8: depression & simple pleasures. without pictures.

the depression come, and it grab me by the throat, and it squeeze real hard, and no out loud words come, just gasps for breath; i close my eyes and see nothing but the orange flickers that say you alive, you alive, and i whisper those words into my soul, feel 'em drop into my heart and spurt out through my arteries and veins and fill my inside, and suddenly that depression that think it so badass lose one more time.  it leave behind some hard pain; sometimes i cry just pushing myself out of bed, that depression leaving bruises and aches all along my right side, but bruises heal, and the pain, too, though that take a long time.  the tv say depression hurts, and i just laugh.

true story: thursday, passing by a funeral home, early for the services, a few cars in the parking lot, car, space, car, space, space, another car, another empty space.  i guess none of the earlycomers knew each other, but there was a mathematical beauty in the spacing of those cars, like they were part of a grand design and didn't know; the driver's side window down on every vehicle and an arm extended from each, a cigarette held tightly in those pre-funeral fingers.  and as we turned the corner i was reminded of that scene in the big chill, another funeral, all those car doors lined up, opening up, there at the cemetery, opening, closing, slamming shut, an inspired bit of filming, all those doors lined up in a row.  maybe the same director here on thursday, lining up those last cigarettes before the final words.

that was the day depression rear its ugly head, wake up next to me on the bed, happy as hell to have me to mess with; i know i have no power and just say bring it, and so it do, it bring it all day long and i leave work early to lay on the couch and watch movies and read old books and it just keep bringing more.  come friday morning it have me by the throat, and i just keep breathing it away, under the pillows; i can't move to find the shower or drive myself to work, and i pray for sleep, but sleep stay far away, depression slippin' it five under the table.  i give up, finally open my eyes, and there be the jingle bell cat sprawled on the air conditioner outside the broken window, her blue eyes staring into mine.  she try to find a way through the glass - i now think she be a she - then she move to the other window, open to the springtime, and is all sweet meows at the screen, but skye cat smack back at her anyway.  that jingle bell cat gets me out of bed and surrounds me -she circle the outside house as i circle the inside.  she outside every window.  depression can't fight those blue eyes and i feel it loosen its grip.  there is hot water in the shower and the ever-wonderful michael buys me mexican food for lunch and an afternoon at the movies.


day 8.  what are your simplest pleasures?
go beyond description & into showing the experience of each indulgence.


that lunch.
the movie.
those blue eyes.
this morning's sunshine.
out loud words again.
whatever the day brings

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15 comments:

  1. Always the gratitude for those things that keep you alive, in spite of depression and its powerful claws.
    Love and light to you, Blue Eyes.

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    Replies
    1. :) Always. Today is nothing but tourists on the Azalea Trail outside my door. Sunshine and springtime and flowers everywhere. Life be yin and yang.

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  2. Oh D... I have been there.

    And sometimes (most times?) what pulls us back is so simple, so small, so tentative--and yet it's all we need.

    Sending sunshine and movies and little-bits-of-joy and whatever-it-takes your way today, with such love.

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    Replies
    1. so true. the little things of life that say hey! wake up! we're still here! a bit of silliness and a blue eyed cat always helps.

      xoxo

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  3. ..unless one has experienced depression, they can never have empathy for one who does.
    they can never put it into words.
    i am grateful for "the ever-wonderful Michael in your life, that takes you out for Mexican lunch.
    in fond regard, Tilda

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    Replies
    1. me too. :) he lets me eat all i want, even if it's just a coke.

      xoxo

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  4. Replies
    1. karen - thank you. i'm drifting into a new voice. i wonder where it will take me. :)

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  5. Replies
    1. out loud again. out loud gives stuff power. xoxoxo

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  6. .. love reading about the sweet ones in your life that reach through the depression ..a powerful day 8 my friend!

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  7. i'm intrigued to hear you describe depression in this "bad ass" way. mine feels wet and salty and frightening. it comes in the dark especially even though it also stays during the lightime. but it ravages my insides in the dark. what i do is wait, and wait and remember. i let go of hope for awhile and then without rhyme or reason i feel better. i feel comforted to know that you sometimes share the dark with me sort of like in that song by Florence + the Machine Cosmic Love.
    xox

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  8. It is the simple things that take me by the hand on days when depression comes to call, and there are way too many of those days lately - a mug of sweet tea, a new box of colored pencils, a finch in the crabapple tree singing her heart out.

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  9. Simplest pleasure is having someone place a small vase of flowers on my desk right now. Sweet! Wish I could cry sometimes with JOY and Sorrow~

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  10. Oh my gosh, sometimes it really is the simplest thing that can pull you out.
    For me it was a brief encounter with a chocolate lab. He came right to me, where I sat on the grass in a dead stare, and simply loved me into the moment. He didn't stay long... long enough to help me see that not all was bad in my dark little world. He still comes to mind when I need rescuing... I love that he still lives within that part of me.

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