Ashes, Ashes

You know when you were a kid, and you fell down really hard, much harder than you thought you would? And you layed there

stung

reeling from the sudden shock of pain and not sure you'd be able to get back up?

And your friends or relatives were in the background laughing at you, and you knew you had to get up, because you didn't want to act like a baby, but you really didn't think you could?

That is what it has been like.

Lying in bed saying to myself, get up get up get up getupgetupgetupgetup.
And not being able to.

Trying to talk to my parents about it and unleashing a phone call so full of invective and ranting, they haven't returned any of my calls since.

I definitely think of depression as a black hole vacuum that sucks you down into it. And this time I walked past the side of it, swirled around the top for a couple of months and then WHAM! I was pulled down in, breaking every bone on my way to the bottom.

I feel better now. I have felt better the last few weeks (with one crying jag because I misunderstood a comment, and was more truthful about how I felt than I have ever been with anyone. Damn this marriage thing - I let down my guards, I have no guards!) but it has been a slow regrouping.

We went out with our good friends last weekend and every word I said felt like concrete when I spoke it, they crashed to ground and broke apart while our friends looked at me strangely.

I ended up drinking a lot to smooth the edges. Who knows if they smoothed, but I felt better. Tequila, I love you extraordinary.

So I'm kind of back on solid ground again, gulping a lot of air. If there were sun, I'd be standing in it, but there is no sun in Seattle today. Or yesterday. Or tomorrow. This can be a really depressing place to live. The only saving grace in the monotonously dreary weather is the burst of color that signals spring here. You don't even remember that there were cherry trees EVERYWHERE until they burst into color. Almost overnight! And the tiny little crocus patch in our front planter grew a flower this year. I watched it last year and it produced leaves but no bud. So maybe this is a sign that this year is going to be a good year. And the daffodil I stepped on last year grew again this year.

Which teaches me more about the physics of bulbs than it does anything else, but I thought I'd mention it anyway.

Sorry I've been away. I'm pretty sure I'm back now.