Depression? Me? Hah!

by

September 20, 2007

I love getting your emails – 8 years worth of them, and I’ve kept them all.  They are, without exception, positive and entertaining and some of them are quite touching.  It means so much to me that you are reading what I write, even though that baffles me.  Who gives a fuck about my random ravings?  It freaks me out that people pay even the slightest bit of attention to what is, for all intents and purposes, an occasional diary.

Recently, however, I received an email saying that in the writer’s opinion, I was suffering from “severe depression”.

Oh, how I laughed.

Honey, I don’t have depression in my nature.  Apart from not having the attention span to sustain it, I think every ordinary day is a gift.  Even when life is shitty.  Perhaps especially when it’s shitty, because those are the days that teach you things.  I’ve had the Last Rites more times than you can shake a stick at:  the ordinary blips in the road don’t faze me.  Sure life sometimes gets difficult,  but welcome to the Human Condition.

At this point in my life, at this moment, I have never felt more alive, never felt as if I were contributing something more vital to this world.  I know it’s inconsequential.  I know nobody cares. That’s not the point. That doesn’t matter:  what counts is that I’m giving all I have.

Depressed?  Uh...no. I live each day in a state of grace, even if some would think this existence bizarre, these triumphs ephemeral.  I contribute so much of myself to this daily life, and I get so much more than I invest back again.  The return is astonishing.  It may be imperceptible to others but it nourishes me on many levels.

So weep no tears for me, dear reader.  This job may be my life, it may cure or kill me (assuming, as you seem to do, that there is something “wrong” with me) but I cannot leave it alone.   I think I’ve said this before, but I do this job because I’m a True Believer.  And in the process, I have found my niche and my calling.  What  could make me happier?

Unless, and this is a chilling thought, you believe that I’m incomplete because I’m single.  I hesitate to attribute this archaic view to you, because if  you’re reading this column, one would assume you’re rather enlightened. On that score as well, let me assure you that all is well.

Do I miss having a partner?

Not really – and if I’m candid, I feel kind of guilty about that.  I mean, we’re kind of conditioned into believing that we’re incomplete without our mythical Other to fulfill us.

I don’t miss cuddling, I don’t miss the midnight conversations, I don’t miss the Saturday mornings on the couch or mooching around the house. 

Let me qualify that:  I miss having those times with the Beloved, but that time is past.  I’m not looking to find it elsewhere and I’m not looking for someone else to step into his shoes.  It’s a shame it didn’t last, but it wasn’t his fault.  It’s just over. 

Sometimes, things just Are. 

And obsessing over that fact gains you nothing.

I’ve had the Great Love of My Life.  I treasure that.  I will always treasure that. But I don’t expect to encounter it again.  Once a lifetime I think is the best one can expect – some people never even get that.  I was blessed to get it once.  I’m not going to get greedy or delusional enough to expect it’ll come my way again.  And that’s OK.

(That being said, I hope it comes his way again.  He deserves that. I would dance at his wedding with a glad heart, if he were happy.  He is a good man and I would rest easier to know his heart was eased.)

Candidly, I seem to have lost the ability to cuddle or to show affection even with those I care about. It’s a trust thing, I think. I’ve been careful only to “care” about those who are no threat to me and who have no real influence or impact on my life.  I respect opinions, certainly, but nobody gets past the Sentry.  Those I chose to care about have no interest in breaching that particular perimeter, so everybody’s happy.

The thing you have to understand is that I’m at a different place in my life right now.  Let’s face it:  each of us, in every moment, is in a state of becoming – we are constantly evolving.  The trick is whether or not we have any idea of our destination.

And I do.

That’s my blessing.  And what a gift that is.

I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.

I laugh every day, straight from my belly, without apology, hesitation or restraint.  Sometimes without cause or explanation, but always without reservation.  And nothing makes me feel more alive.

I can’t think of a greater benediction than that.

Each day begins and ends with a smile – even the crappy days, when I’ve had the shit kicked out of me: it’s always worth it – I’ve always learned something.  I’m happy with who I am. Sure, I fuck up, but I deal with that --- there’s always a lesson.  But I don’t beat myself up about the ways I’ve failed.  If I were to get caught up in that maze, I’d never get out again.  Progress involves overcoming obstacles, slights, blows to the ego, the realizations of your own shortcomings.

Depressed?  Sweetie, if that’s what you think, you haven’t been paying attention. 

I am a work in progress, always have been.

Watch this space. 

I will astound you, if only you pay attention. 

I have a hurricane in me.

Wait and see.

Till next time.

Morrigan