It didn’t happen quickly. There was no “ah ha!” moment. No, it slowly crept up on me and with every bad moment the darkness took over another day and every day it took it became stronger. I used to be able to wave off a bad moment so the dark couldn’t take over and was able to see the light poking through. Now though the lights are far and few between. What were once spotlights have turned into small flickering flames. This is a moment of clarity in my depression, a brief moment of being able to see what is happening to me. And it scares me.
The worst thing about this darkness is that it turns your goals and the things that used to bring you joy against you. You start to walk past your hobbies. That half-finished crochet project is too easy or too hard; the book has reached a slow point or a part with a lot of important development and it’s too hard to process; the garden is overgrown with weeds and it will take too long to clean up. And so you do nothing, because surely nothing is easier than anything. But it isn’t. It is a lot of work to do nothing, or so it seems, because you’re exhausted all the time.
It’s all I can do some days to do more than take care of my 4 month old son. He’s probably the most perfect thing I’ve ever been a part of and yet there are days I don’t want to hold him. He plays within sight but not within reach. He doesn’t seem to mind as long as he gets his nursing whenever he wants. In exchange for doing that, I won’t eat, sleep, change out of pjs, or even brush my hair. That requires energy. And so the darkness takes another day.
But the darkness requires feeding and eventually bad days are not enough. No, it needs another food source: here comes Guilt and Doubt. So you didn’t make dinner, you’re a filthy slob of a wife. Your husband works long hours 6 days a week and then does all the livestock chores (which, by the way, just cost you money cause you can’t figure out how to market shit properly, idiot) when he gets home and you can’t even throw some food together? Pathetic. He deserves better than you.
The darkness is a nasty thing.
I don’t want to feel like garbage. Once upon a time I was happy but it seems like I’ve forgotten how. I know my husband loves me and like me he’s hoping this will pass but Guilt and Doubt still follow me around making terrible commentary. There are days, like today, where I want to throw in the towel. Not for everything, just big chunks of things like our livestock. We wanted to make a go of it so badly that we moved across the country to afford land but it’s been plagued by bad luck; so naturally I feel like pulling the “fuck it” plug.
We’ll see. My husband is forcing me to go to see our doctor to figure something out. Until then I’ll go over the Mind over Matter book and cry at all the case studies again.
In the little town which I, for now, call home everything is quiet. Though I live so close to the old main street (before all of the strip malls were built in the newer Western part of town) the only sound outside is the whistle of the train as it passes through the heart of this sleepy town. It’s still more development than where I’d like to be but life has a way of putting you places that are nowhere near where you want to be.
It’s funny where we find ourselves, sometimes. I grew up on a farm outside of a town with less than 500 people only to go off to what I considered a big city for college, then back down to a community that created their own style: rurban. I loved being from the country. Yes, I had to go to a different town to go to school and another town in the opposite direction for groceries and gas but everything seemed so much closer. People would laugh at the distance I’d have to go for a bag of milk and I’d just turn around with “it takes me 10 minutes to drive to the store which is the same, if not less, for you so how is my distance so much worse?”
Being in the city was the worst. I could never see the stars and it made me feel so claustrophobic. There was noise constantly. Back home if you heard emergency vehicles you’d call your friends and family in the direction they were headed to make sure they were ok. I became numb to the noise and that frightened me. I became depressed because when I looked out my window all I could see were parking lots and highways. “Barrie isn’t a big city,” folks would say, “what would you do if you went to school in Toronto?” Easy, I didn’t take that risk by avoiding applying to programs there. I was glad when co-op time rolled around; it meant I could go home for 4 or 8 months and recharge before going back to the noise.
After college I found myself in the smaller, but still too big for me, town of Alliston. I found an apartment in the quieter old part of town and it was much better than Barrie. I had green space nearby and I could see the stars on clear nights. There were still noises from emergency vehicles but it was significantly less than Barrie. The only thing I had to get used to was the train that runs through the middle of the only roads to get through Alliston and its whistle. A few months later I moved to another apartment, this time further into the old main road, closer to the newer part of town, to live with my boyfriend. I found myself spending more time outside biking and walking the trails that are hidden throughout town. We found beautiful old homes, hidden parks, secret trails, and hole in the wall restaurants. It was beautiful and peaceful, for what I consider to be a larger town.
For what this place defines itself as (rurban: small-town feel with all the amenities of a big city within walking distance) it is perfect and I don’t think changing anything could make it better.
(A response to We Built This City)
Confession: I love fresh bread. All kinds. If you put a warm loaf of mysterious seed/flour source in front of me I will eat it with or without the presence of butter. I have tried several times to make my own bread and it usually turns into a dense, flat brick. I’ll eat it anyway, but it’s just not…right. I tried growing a sourdough starter a few months back and ended up pitching it because it just wouldn’t take off, baffling my bakery contacts. I can cook, I can bake, I cannot bake bread. Until now.
I think Valentines Day is the reason why I dislike the overuse of the colour pink and overly-sappy couples. There is no valid foundation on what this corporate holiday is based on, it’s just a great way for companies to pick up the post-Christmas economic slump. Maybe that’s why I don’t like V-Day, or it could be the fact that I didn’t fit into the group that could until two years ago, either way I still find it overrated.
Have you ever been planning on something for such a long time and then…BAM! It smacks you right in the face out of nowhere? Or even worse, had several long-term plans and then they all start compounding and suddenly plans you’ve had for months are on your doorstep and there’s no way you’re prepared to deal with them yet? Well that’s what happened to me and, man, where did the time go?
So I’ve been working through this no-poo thing with my hair for a while now (April? May? I’ve lost track) and I’m sorry to say I’ve cracked. I used shampoo today and I am sorry. (Sorry for all the sorry’s. I’m Canadian, it happens). Continue reading
Welcome to my confessional. Yes, I am a hooker. I got started when I was in college and I haven’t looked back. Hey, you have your hobbies, I have mine. I mean, it’s addicting! Looking up new techniques, scouring Pinterest for inspiration, making things for my friends and family for fun and profit…This would probably be a good time to mention that by “hooker” I mean “I crochet”. Continue reading