Blue Monday. And Tuesday. And all the other days.

So last week was tough. I was recovering from my second mysterious barfing plague in two weeks, my husband was in France, and Tuesday evening it started raining and didn't stop until Friday afternoon. It wasn't that there was so much to do - there were two baseball games and a school barbecue to deal with, but none of them actually ended up happening, because of illness (Angus's) or weather. It wasn't that I fed the kids leftover macaroni and bacon on Monday and ordered pizza on Tuesday and then made chicken souvlaki on Wednesday and made them eat it for the rest of the week.

Photo credit John Beales
It was that I was doing everything while dragging these shackles around. You know, the depression shackles, the ones that clank around behind you and make every step a huge effort, while hollering lie after lie. You're ugly. You're useless. Nobody loves you. Your kids wish they had a better mother. They also whisper a few things that are probably true. You will never be totally free of this.

Sometimes there's no way out but through, right? Even though I tried to open the curtains in my room and pulled the whole curtain rod down. Even though I spilled every container of juice I reached for.  By Friday I felt like I couldn't move. I had a long-overdue haircut booked for 12:30. I took the kids to school and took a shower and sat in a chair to read but I could hardly turn the pages. I fell asleep reading. Later I fell asleep under the hair dryer. But hair has to be cut, kids have to be fed, husbands eventually return from France, and I only have one book club end-of-year dinner a year (it's a hence-the-name thing).

I forced myself out of the house. I kept fake smiling until my smile felt less fake. One of my book club friends said, at one point, "she's strange. She works hard during the week, but then on Saturday she'll just sit in a chair and read all day and not interact with anyone!" I said "yeah, what a freak." and everyone laughed, and it was okay because suddenly I was basically okay with my book-freakiness again.

Just so this post isn't all about my pain, here is our book club list for the forthcoming year:

Crow Lake, Mary Lawson

The Beautiful Mystery, Louise Penny

And now I can see that last week was tough, because I'm in a different week. And today I had to water the flowers because it hasn't rained for a couple of days. And I feel a little lighter. And it's okay, because if I was totally free of those periodic shackles, my life would probably be way too easy. 


the queen said…
Thank you for saying that. I feel that way too.
Swistle said…
This month I started marking Bad Days on the calendar. I'm HOPING that this will show me that it passes off every time. It doesn't seem like it's going to, in the midst of it: it feels like a View of The Truth.
Julie Leclair said…
hope the shackles lighten up on the pulling down. hugs.
Nicole said…
I love you. xoxoxo
Lynn said…
So, so sorry to hear it. Hope this week and some fabulous books help turn it around.
Pam said…
Stupid, stupid-head depression! I want to come over and kick it in the ass. No fair, because you really are wonderful in countless ways that are just who you are, unconditionally. You are loved.
StephLove said…
Oh, dear Allison, I'm sorry about last week and glad things are a bit better now.

I don't think your life would be too easy without this. I think it would rock.
Hannah said…
I love you and I hate Blogger because it doesn't matter how many times I subscribe to your blog, it refuses to tell me when you have a new post so I missed this. And now I feel like a total asshole because this is the kind of post where if I don't hear from certain people it sends me into a spiral of "oh my god they don't like me" and "everyone is tired of listening to me talk about this". Then I eat a whole bag of potato chips.

Anyway, the shackles thing, yes. YES. I've been feeling them lately too and it's so hard to disentangle.
Sasha said…
So I almost thought I was replying in an almost somewhat timely fashion, then I noticed this is July and not June and so I'm over a month behind. But I wanted to reply anyway.

Mostly because I HEAR YOU. It is so hard to move when you're knee-deep in sludge that somehow, nobody else can see. And I want to tell you about this little epiphany I had on this very subject this morning but now that I've written it and rewritten it 6 times it comes out so irritatingly polyanna-ish that I refuse to put my name on it. So I'm going to stick to virtual hugs, and I hope things are going better. Maybe I'll even get a chance to read some later posts to find out if they are...

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