Pure Energy

It's noon on a Wednesday, and I am standing in my kitchen, pouring my second cup of coffee.  Somebody got a late start to the day.  But I needed it.  I'm tired.  I'm a single mom.  I deserve to sleep in and be lazy and dick around on the internet for a few hours.

Right?

This is my struggle and dilemma every day that I wake up.  To be lazy or not to be lazy.  I am in the greatest fight of my life, and I am fighting against myself.

And I never win.

And it makes me sad every day.  And I fight it every day.  And I hate it every day.  And the worst part is that I feel like there is nothing that I can do about it.

Except keep fighting.

While I'm standing at my counter pouring my coffee today, I happened to glance out the window and see a man walking down the street.  I see hundreds of people go up and down this street every day, and generally think not much of them.

But this man was extraordinary.

First cane, then foot step, then other foot to meet the next, this man was moving along 6 inches for every two steps he took.  But he kept inching along.  And after two minutes, he had made it a third of the way down the block to the corner.

He paused here, but only to ask a man for directions.  From the man's gestures, it looked as though he was getting directions to the bus stop 3 blocks away.

3 blocks.  At the pace he was going, it would take him nearly 20 minutes to get there. 

But off he went.  Where to, I do not know, but off he went.  Determined, steady, and resolute.  And seemingly without an ounce of hesitation.

I am a healthy, young woman with strong legs and no cane, and sometimes I can't even bring myself to cross the room to answer the phone.  I sometimes don't have the "energy" to take the garbage out, or hang my jacket up, or cook lunch, or go for a walk on a beautiful day.

Watching this man today, I realized that "energy" is much more of an emotion than it is anything else.  It is more about will-power and determination and want and need.  It is something that is created, and not something that I am born with.

Watching this man today, I found a place in my heart that I never knew existed.  Like the shop nestled inbetween all the other shops, that has been around for years, yet you only discovered today.

I found my emotional energy today, and that is something that I have been searching for a long time.

Too long, too long.

It has been over a year since I last posted, but I swear that I have thought about posting every day.  And, yet, I haven't.  What the fuck?

 

I'm sitting at my window on a rainy Friday night. The boy is asleep. I've been bored and watching tv all night.

Not a fucking thing has changed since we moved here almost a year ago. Same Julia. Different location. 

 

I am really disappointed in myself. This move was supposed to mark a new beginning for us. A launch into the next phase of our lives. But I feel more stymied than ever. I feel more bored than ever. There is absolutely nothing interesting going on for me right now. I have no interest in my own life.

 

I think that's why I haven't written anything in so long.  Sure, sometimes I have stories or ideas that I think of writing about, but then they just slip into the ether, and the page stays blank.

 

So I guess today should mark the new beginning of my new beginning.  Because I swear to God, there is more to life than TV and staring out the window, and I am going to get out off the couch and out of my (super-comfy) pj's and find it.

Ugh.

Ugh.

Great Excavations.

Wouldn't it be wonderful if you could poop people out of your system the way you poop out a bad meal? I wish I could throw-up all the garbage I've been fed. Pull the poisonous words out of my ears like I pull out earwax.

A physical cleanse in place of the illusive mental one I so greatly desire. A place on my head that induces brain vomit.

Uncover our heads and reveal our souls.

I live inside my head. I live in my mind, and my body is my home. I don't like to leave this home. I don't care for reality. My home is warm and snuggly, and everything is where I place it and where I want it to be. Sometimes people come in and rearrange when I'm not looking. I put everything away when they leave.

Outside of me, I have no control. Outside of my head, other people exist, with other ideas and other emotions and other motives. Outside of me, what I want means nothing. Outside of me, there are lies and undiscovered truths. Secrets. Realities that are not my own.

And then I have to wonder, who's reality is real? If my reality is the one that I know to be true, and it is only true because I don't know the whole truth, then is it really true? Is my reality real?

Because it certainly doesn't seem like it. At least the life I lead in my head, in my home, is something I can rely on. I know it's not real. But at least I can take comfort in that fact.

Dark hole

It's that time of year again for the dark blanket of depression to smother me from the inside out. I always forget how bad it gets sometimes; the sunshine seems to erase the memories. But then the temperature drops, and the snow falls, and the inversion sets in, and I'll be damned if I'm not crawling back into bed 10 minutes after getting up and wishing that the world would just go away.

The funny thing about depression is that if you are already depressed, and then you are given something to be depressed about, it's a vicious case of vertigo as you plummet to the bottom. And, just so you know, there is no bottom. Just when you think you are hitting it, you find that there are basements, then underground parking levels, then, of course, hell...

So here's something to be depressed about. I'm trying to go through all of this while not letting it affect my son.

How can you explain to a 2 year old that mommy just doesn't have the energy today? That mommy just can't focus on him, and that mommy needs to be alone, and that mommy's emotions aren't about him? How can you explain to a 2 year old that depression is ridiculously selfish, and there isn't a goddamn thing you can do about it?

Well, you can't.

So my goal is to give him the bit of energy that I do have. To give him those few moments when the sun is out and the blanket of fog has lifted from my mind. To give him that little bit that I have to give. And to hope that it is enough.

I think every parent has their moments when they say to themselves, 'maybe someday they'll understand,' in the hopes that maybe someday our kids will understand. And as the kid of parents, there are things that I understand now about my parents that I never understood growing up. It took 30 years to understand, but it happened.

I hope it doesn't take 30 years for Owen to understand me and my depression, and I also hope that he doesn't understand too early either. I don't want him to spend any time as a child worrying about mommy's sadness. I want to hide it all from him.

A person can dream, can't she.

Wax and wane.

I'm in that place where I know who I am, but I don't know how to put it into practice.

I am strong, and I am not weak.

Maybe if I keep telling myself this, it will be true.

I used to be a strong woman. But strong in a cold way. I was shut off. Maybe that was actually weakness.... I have been trying for years to rediscover myself, to take back control of my life and my destiny.

When I got pregnant, I was headed in a certain direction, and having a child changed that. I thought for a long time that my dreams had to be taken away. That I was going to be stymied in this boring life. I've now realized that my dreams and wants and desires can still be realized, just on new terms.

I now need to regain the confidence I had in order to get back on track to the life I want. To the life I deserve.

I'm so lost in my own head.