Thirty-Three

Today I am trying to fight the good fight, to battle against the depression and anxiety and loneliness, to wage my war against myself. My melancholy continues, but instead of allowing it to wash over me and drag me out to sea with every wave, I am hoping to dig my feet into the sand and hold steady. I have so much good going on in my life, at a time when many Americans are drowning in despair and uncertainty and poverty. I am trying to focus on all the positives, instead of dwelling on the negatives. I have so much, I must ignore what I feel- rightly or wrongly- that I don't have. Instead of complaining about not spending enough time with A, I should feel grateful that my husband- unlike many others- has a wonderful, well-paying, stable job he goes off to every day- a job that he not only likes, but enjoys. His job, those long hours when he is gone, allows us to have a worry-free existence. When he is not here, I should stop counting the hours I am alone and instead be genuinely happy that he is not here sitting around the house with me, either unemployed or disabled or ill. It has been days upon days without the sun shining on me, literally. We have been covered in thick clouds for it seems several weeks now here, no rain, just dark swirling humid clouds that cover the sky but bring no much-needed rain. Add that to the heavy dark wood blinds that keep our windows covered- and the AC bill down- and I have spent days on end in heavy gloom. I turn on every light and lamp in the house, even light candles, but the small circles of artificial light seem even more depressing and only seem to illuminate my sadness. And still the air outside is heavy, oppressive, muggy, almost like a living thing that holds me down with its damp weight. I know autumn is on its way, and with it, relief from the summer season that I have come to despise all my life. I look forward to cool breezes and bright blue skies, colorful fall leaves and apples and local festivals. Summer has long been my enemy, and this year has been the worst of them in all my 40+ years. I count the days until the seasons change, hoping that my mood with shift with the falling temperatures. Many people suffer their depression in the winter, when they stay huddled up inside, the sunshine of the shorter daylight hours eluding them. Summer has, for me, always been a time to withdraw from the world outside, where I stay as close to a fan or AC vent as possible, where I remain still so that I don't sweat, don't feel hot and sticky and gross. I've always hated summer, even though being a southerner, I have spent decades in the heat, the choking humidity that makes hair damp and clothes cling wetly and zaps energy from my body and my brain. Summer is not a friend to the chubby. But winter is my favorite time of the year, when my energy returns, and I throw back the curtains and go outside. I long for it this year, whether or not my situation has changed. Whether or not I'm employed again. Today I raised all the blinds on all the windows in the house, and even though there is no sun shining outside, it has still made this house feel less like my cage and more like my sanctuary. Last night and this morning, I have been sitting in the rocking chair on the front porch and instead of feeling so alone on this dead end street out in the middle of nowhere, I tried to find peace of mind and a calmness, taking in all the silence. I can sit for hours, and not see one other person walk by or a car drive down my street. I see no neighbors in their yards- the stay at home mommies on my block are deep inside their own caves. I see only the tall growth of brush in the empty lots across the street, swaying with whatever wind is blowing, and I am suddenly glad there is nothing but quiet woods across the street from me. I hear nothing but crows cawing, bugs chirping, frogs calling, squirrels rusting in trees and bushes, hear the chatter of chickadees. There are no traffic noises, no human voices, only the occasional hum of our AC unit kicking on. Instead of wallowing in the self-pity of isolation, I am embracing the lack of man-made clatter and taking in the sounds of nature. How lucky I am to not deal with the echo of gunshots, the screams of fighting neighbors, the shrills of police sirens or ambulances, the earth-thumping stereos of passing cars. I know they are out there, somewhere, but miles and miles away from me, deeply entrenched here in the solitude of the rolling green hills and thick forests and small family farms. Nine months now I have been without a job to go to, left alone here in this big, empty tomb of a house. Long enough to have carried a child and given birth. Instead I have been carrying around pain and loneliness, pregnant with anger and bewilderment at my new surroundings, feeling almost betrayed and abandoned, when all A did was take a new job to secure our future. But I don't want to give life to those feelings anymore. Feeling this way has been a burden for me, a burden that sometimes overwhelms me to the point that A has to pick me up and set me back on my own two feet. It is time, overdue, to cast off this ridiculous cloak of depression I have disguised myself with lately. A disguise that is so great, I can't even recognize myself on most days. Where is the old me? It is time for her to come out of the shadows and back into the light.