I’m not one to wallow in self pity. I abhor pity parties and the people who host them.
Drama is not my mama.
But recently I found myself in a bit of a funk. And after several unsuccessful attempts to get out of it, I decided to embrace it instead instead of fight it.
The genesis of my funk remains a mystery to me. Perhaps it was hormonal. Or maybe a sudden drop in blood sugar spawned by a lack of Christmas cookies in my system. Or it could have been a combination of little annoyances wrapped in a box called The Holiday Season, which always seems to amplify emotions and bring them to a boil.
Whatever it was, it had me good and I could have wept on demand had someone asked me to.
The only thing that would have depressed me even more was if one of my soulmates (yes, I have more than one and so does everyone else for that matter, but that’s the subject of another blog) would have said to me … “I want you in my life, but I don’t know where to put you.”
The first thing I did to deepen my depression was to Google “The most depressing song ever.”
On the list of most depressing songs ever is one by an Icelandic indie group. Immediately I heard a voice inside my head say: “See, I told you Iceland was depressing.”
Maybe I’ll move to Iceland, I thought.
As thoughts of nordic nights watching the Aurora Borealis alone while drinking whisky from a bottle danced through my head, I decided the next best thing to do to further my depression would be to wonder who would come after me if I suddenly hopped on a plane and escaped to Iceland.
My partner? No, she’d be too busy making “to do” lists to notice I was gone.
My best friend who has been there for me through thick and thin since high school? No, she’d be continuing her self-imposed mandate to “give me space” after the drama surrounding the last time we saw each other.
My newest friend and soulmate? Wrong again. She’d be freaked out that I was gone, but even more freaked out if anyone found out she’d gone looking for me.
My parents would probably worry about where I was but they would most likely call the three people above, all of which would be no help in finding me.
There is one living thing who would come looking for me if she could. Problem is, she’s 135 years old, has four paws and would never make it through airport security alone.
My penultimate push to deepen my depression was to sit in front of my computer and put my feelings into words. I didn’t know what I was going to write but when I did, the rush of emotions was so great, it shocked me. Tears flowed uncontrollably.
I realized that whatever it was that was generating my depression wasn’t the issue. The real issue was that I had been reaching out to a friend to help me through it all, but my message wasn’t getting through. It got me wondering how many times people in pain reach out to me, but I’m to deaf to hear them.
In a final push to give my sadness control over me, I penned an e-mail to my friend, releasing the frustrations and fears that had plagued me for the last 72 hours. I hit the send button and waited.
About an hour went by.
And then something magical happened.
To be continued …
Trading Barbs With Barb 