After yesterday’s heavy, downer of a post on DEPRESSION, which I wrote partly in honor of Mental Health Month (which is every May), partly to vent my frustration about how badly people treat those suffering DEPRESSION, and partly because the topic had been on my mind a lot lately… I am just emotionally empty.
Today was supposed to be…
a fabulous homage to my favorite blogger and author, Jenny Lawson aka The Bloggess. But I fear I cannot do her funniness proper honor today. Jenny is hilarious and deserves better than what I can offer up at the moment.
It’s not that I’m suffering DEPRESSION per se…
but since, like alcoholism, one is never truly cured of this illness, I fear the best I can say of myself currently is that I’m a Recovering Depressive. And I’m really feeling that label today. Nothing feels funny.
anger, and grey material to unpack, and now I need to take some time to put it back in its locker toward the back of my brain. I’d gladly hire a maid, but I’m that crazy sort who has to clean up before the maid arrives because I wouldn’t want her to see my mess and be put out by it. Yes, which does indeed defeat the purpose, you’re right, I agree. Shaddup.
So anyway, I can’t really say anything right now which wouldn’t come out sounding slightly bitter. There is an afghan calling to me from the couch, where I hear a nap awaits my arrival.
Jenny, if you’re reading this,
I promise to write about you on Monday. I’d promise Friday to you, but that day is already sworn to my son, who graduates from high school tomorrow. And as much as I adore you, I really do love him more.
Not that it’s a contest.
But, you know, you lose.