Over the last month or so I’ve felt like I’ve been woken from a very long sleep. All I can think about is my failures. I’m overwhelmed with anxiety and heavy with hopelessness. Its so much that sometimes I feel like I can’t breath. I didn’t realize three months or six months ago that I was rolling downhill into another episode of depression. I sort of felt like my mind was taking a nice long rest, my body was slowing down to accommodate all its been through. It wasn’t until the anxiety kicked in that I realized; WOW, somthing is really wrong here. Sometime during that nice long sleep I realized I missed a few things. I awoke finally; knowing something was really wrong. I went back on my medication.

I woke up to find my finances had gone down the tubes and I did nothing to manage them properly. My idea of management was living paycheck to paycheck only making sure there was food in the house or enough money to buy another round of pizza because Mommy was just too damn tired to cook. Pizza Hut is my friend. I lost my sex drive until I started dating someone and awoke to find; damn this shit is amazing. What have I been doing for the last year? Surviving on a broken vibrator is no way to live.

I came home tonight to find my lovely daughter completely engrossed in the Gilmore Girls. We’ve watched this show together since it came on television and we’ve both equally enjoyed it. Unfortunately Lorelei was having a single mother breakdown, crying about what a failure she was and how desperate she felt and how much she really needed backup. Backup for things like a broken faucet or, someone to make her coffee or someone to just be there. Her breakdown spiralled into constant repetition about her being a failure in all thing in life; motherhood, finances, realtionships, work, etc. I stood in my living room for a second. I stood still, holding my breath, holding my purse and my computer bag, wearing my coat. For the first time I realized; oh my god, that’s my life.

Let me remind you: This is the very first time I have ever thought someone on television “got me”. I’m not that crazy just a bit depressed. I acknowledged the feeling and came over here and sat down to write it out. Dr. B sat me down on Saturday and gave me the big speech and told me things were going to be fine. I might have cried; don’t hold it against me. It doesn’t happen very often. Then he procurred a red sponge-like clown nose and made me wear it in the middle of Saturday Market.  For about an hour afterward, I didn’t have anxiety. I went home and took a nap - it was glorious.  

When my daughter was young I would come home from work to find her sitting on the couch, watching cartooons wearing an old prom dress with a tiara on her head. I wasn’t quite sure what to do with her. I myself,  had a bad day that day and decided to borrow one of her other tiara’s and try it out. (yes she had more than one) We sat on the couch together that night, we watched the Gilmore Girls and ate cheesecake; we wore our tiara’s the entire night. I felt better within hours. My day washed away, my demanding clients voices quieted and I smiled each time I realized I was wearing a plastic Barbie tiara on my head. 

I’ve employed a variation on that tactic.

You will now find me sleeping in high-heels until this depression lifts or the pills start working.

Photo of Chantle Williams, by Chantel Williams, 2008

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