The day job and my schedule related to it has kept me hopping for the last three or so weeks, and the next three weeks are equally busy. RT was great because, while I was there as alter ego, I was able to also soak up information and ideas for this side of my life. Hence, the start of Project Occipital. Last week, the latest post from Hyperbole and a Half was making the rounds on the web. I read it and very much recognized where she was coming from. While I’ve never hit those truly low levels, I’ve dealt with my share of depression.
Sunday afternoon, after spending part of the morning sorting out the rhythm of Project Occipital, and then heading down to the National Mall to play kickball, I came home to the realization I was dealing with another bout of depression. As much as I wanted to work on P.O., I could not dredge up the energy. Since I wasn’t going to work on that, I would do my laundry. I have to go out to do my laundry, so I got all ready to go, seriously, keys in hand about to walk out the door, and I could not be bothered to take a step further. All I wanted to do was crawl into bed and go to sleep. It was six in the evening. On Mother’s Day. And I had yet to call my mom. And I didn’t want to call my mom, with whom I have a very close relationship. I knew if I called her, I’d unload about how crappy I was feeling, and who wants to call their mom, ON MOTHER’S DAY, to say “Hi mom! Happy Mother’s Day! I’m depressed. Please fly two hours to give me a hug.” At least I can recognize I’m in a depressed mood. It gives me a little bit of hope it will pass through quickly. While in this mood, I have little energy to be creative, so I’m powering through a lot of more tedious work as my attention isn’t bouncing around at every little squirrel that passes in front of me. I’m going to let this week ride and try to jot down a few more ideas for the structure of P.O. On Saturday, I’ll be moderating the WRW panel at the Frederick Book Festival. I’m going to spend some time with writer friends and bounce ideas off of them, with the hope it will punch through this enervation. I think that’s the worse thing about depression. You recognize factors contributing to the depression, you know what you can do to alleviate some of those factors, but you have absolutely no energy to get those things done.
I hate to end a post on a low note, so I’ll just leave it with: Come see me and other WRW writers in Frederick on Saturday!