Just When You Think You're On Top Of Things 


Jim falls off the bicycle for the umpteenth time. 

I tell myself that I'm a very emotionally balanced and even person. I tell myself and others that when things get the toughest is just when my strength emerges. I thank God that I am healthy and strong for my age. Yes, most of the time, these projections are not too far off the mark. That being said, I am subject to infrequent, short, but very disabling episodes in my life. The last couple of days have been marked by one of these episodes.

I guess an important background setting to this is that I have been busy dealing with some challenging situations. Stephen's osteoarthritis continues to worsen and now he lives in constant pain and faces hip replacement surgery. Friends, now in their later years, continue to experience similar crippling health crises. Others are shocked and grieving over the death of people important to them. I, myself, lost mom in January. But despite these unavoidable consequences of mortal life on this earth, I have continued to give what help and support I could to these loved ones, while pursuing my several dedications: music, reading and growing, exercise and meditative practice, and my current principal objective, redecorating and renovating our 2nd floor family room.

The depression started during a lunch with old friends two days ago. The six of us were reconnecting after one couple had returned from wintering in Ft. Myers. The food was delicious, but I found that I was eager to "get out of there." I wasn't experiencing the usual rapport that I feel from this group with which I have shared, kidded and joked over many long years. I said nothing to Stephen on the way home. However, as the day wore on, I felt definitely depressed. An empty feeling clutched at my heart; I was sad. What was going on?

I have learned over this long lifetime, that I am definitely subject to psychic emotional connection with friends and family. It usually takes about a day for me to sort out, on occasion, that the emotional upset I am feeling is a resonation with someone else, rather than me. But not always, and I also am subject on occasion to getting trapped in non-productive, negative dialog with imagined others, and have to reprogram my thinking to abort these negative tendencies. So when these infrequent blue or agitated periods occur, after I regain just a little balance, I set out to problem-solve my way to clarity.

However, day before yesterday was just not going to resolve so easily. I eliminated the possibility that something bad was going on with my luncheon friends. Then I began to wonder about others. What about Will, who lost a dear old teacher the same month that his wife died a year ago? I knew he was very sad. Was I resonating with him? What about dear Mariam, near to homelessness in California, at the end of her rope? Was it living with someone who was experiencing so much pain and immobility? Was it being on overload, cooking, cleaning, renovating, trying to keep up with a seemingly relentless weekend schedule of obligatory potlucks? Was it all of these things, and more? Still, even though I had plenty of reason to be knocked off balance, none of this seemed to really be the cause.

Also, I only slept two hours night before last. I simply wasn't sleepy. Was this the moon? It may seem silly to some of you, but I have definitely discovered that the conjunction or opposition of the sun and moon (full, new) can throw my sleep patterns off. Well, never this much. I always sleep at least 5 or 6 hours.

Maybe now that the family room is completely painted and more or less straightened up, with only border and decorations to be put up, and a small sofa to acquire, maybe I am mourning the loss of constant challenge and work? No, that is ridiculous. I don't think so. I sat in this nice room under the new floor lamp we just bought at Home Depot (nice lamps at reasonable prices) at 4 in the morning and ruminated about these things.

Now it's Saturday, still haven't done the church laundry. Should I call Anne or Jan and get them to talk me down and through this? I discuss it a little with Stephen. He thinks maybe I should call Mariam. Stephen always has something practical and doable to offer. I get to sleep for almost another hour while I sit and wait for Stephen to complete his physical therapy session. Home in the late afternoon, just in time to make the appetizer for bridge, "Impossible Ratatouille Pie." I modify the recipe to make it more finger-food like. I jokingly decide to christen it "Baked and Screwy Ratatouille." Woah! Wait. Could that be my sense of humor coming back? I think so. Duplicate bridge with 5 other couples is fun, and we can count on not winning and not coming in last, usually.

Then at bridge, I seem to be completely better. Lois and Anne are there, we haven't seen them in an age! The appetizers are good. Par-tee! Stephen and I even play a couple of exciting hands. And I'm back on the bicycle of life, riding and having a good time.

Not!

This morning, Sunday morning, I CANNOT get out of bed. But after trying for half an hour, Stephen HAS to have his shots, the cat has to be fed (dear Midas), and so I drag my shamelessly lethargic aging hulk up to sitting and then to standing position. Shots given, cat fed, tea made, back to bed, fuck going to church. I just can't make it into clothes. But at least the depression is lifted, so while Stephen goes off to make beautiful music and be sanctified, I watch the food network on which the Contessa and her gay boyfriend make short ribs, cornbread and he buys dessert and a fancy French confection shop. Then once through Beethoven's Bb Sonata Opus 22.

Beethoven. Dear Beethoven. What would we do without you? I love you Ludwig, rest in peace. Thank you so much for all this beauty.

And I'm back up and riding. 

Posted: Sun - March 8, 2009 at 11:10 AM          

©