Not just a river in Egypt

[joyfinderhero]

This is an expansion of a comment I posted a little while ago on a friend's blog. I kept wanting to say, Great! Glad to see you're taking steps to lift your depression! Glad to see you bouncing back! Rah, rah! I kept noticing myself saying, Glad to see you getting out -- I'm getting out, but it isn't helping. Finally I noticed.

Seven days from now I leave the apartment at 4 am or earlier to get on an airplane. To fly to a foreign country and take a long bus ride to join Dear Husband aboard the beautiful ketch. Where we will either leave the river on April 9 or else continue with whatever project is unfinished, maybe get in a little lake sailing, and then leave the river May 7. Or else, if neither of those tides sees us crossing the sandbar into open water, leave the boat there for another hurricane season and regroup in November or later. (Stop me if you've heard this part of the story before).

I have mixed feelings about this. On the one hand, we've planned the Trip of a Lifetime, and it promises to be a grand adventure. On another hand, we've invited two younger generations, so it promises to be a crowd. Two months, eight people, small boat ... this will either be wonderful or dreadful, or probably both by turns. On the one hand, the Trip sounds delightful, plenty of sailing (some of it in protected waters inside the reef). On another hand, the final passage will be long and may be bumpy. On another hand, there are dangers (there are always dangers). As usual there have been warnings, omens and portents. 

But I can't live my life in 'avoidance of harm'. And this marriage won't survive if we keep taking turns committing to things and then backing down at the last moment, choosing either refusal or begrudging participation instead of the promised partnered delights.

So for the most part I'm looking forward to my arrival aboard, likely to occur on the evening of April 2 after a long flight, a hotel overnight, a long bus ride and an hour's launch ride down river.

Before that, five days from now I get to spend a day and a half doing deep, holy work with 35 or so friends and colleagues. I am blissfully excited about doing that, eager, in fact. It's what I came to California to do, and my monthly participation has been a joy since October (when I was still flying cross-country monthly to do it). I get to share my feelings about The Trip, whatever is present at that moment, and I get to tell folks how much I will miss them if it should turn out that I need to skip the May weekend. I am confidently planning to get there in June regardless of the precise details of our location by then. There's even a good chance I can fly in for May, depending.

So I'm pretty confident that my depression will lift in five days.

Now, though.

Last week I noticed that my various 'community obligations' and 'scheduled activities' had dwindled down. More stuff is set for April, when I won't be here, but the various monthly gatherings for March are all done. I didn't think this was a big deal, though; I still have the library, some shopping to do for the boat, a nearby grandkid to visit. Life goes on.

Last week I was careful to get myself out of the apartment at least once a day. Well, mostly it was only once a day. Most days I got out sometime before 3 but once I didn't leave until after dark. Big mistake: Daylight, it turns out, is not optional

Last week I was aware that my only conversations were with the check-out folks at the grocery store and library. But then I realized at the end of the week that I'd started using the self-check-out counters. Big mistake: Human contact, it turns out, is required -- even if it's only to talk about the weather.

Last week I kept noticing that I was postponing bathing until 'tomorrow' ... because I was too tired just now, because I wanted to finish what I was reading, because if I wait the store will close, whatever. Finally I noticed that, even with clean clothes on, I stank! Ok, so a clean body is not optional, either.

Thursday I soaked in a hot bath, washed my hair, visited the dentist. Felt better almost at once.

Today is Sunday. I'm feeling isolated. I notice how bored I am reading the internet, playing way too much computer solitaire. Even eating is being boring. I get up and think 'Go for a walk.' But then I think, Tomorrow. And nothing happens.

I'm pretty sure it's still subclinical, but obviously Depression is not just a Weather System.

I'm excited about 5 days from now, also 6, and 7. I'll be able to put up with day 8, even though it's a grueling schedule. But the next 4 days? meh.

So just now I'm looking for love and light. And thinking to ask Netflix for something hysterically funny so I can find some laughter.