The Power of Suggestion
So, my relationship is in transition (toward something better or toward dissolution, I know not), one of my dogs is elderly and in questionable health, I’m broke as a joke and considering a MLM venture to bolster my income, I’m overweight and out of shape, and I won’t be having hot monkey sex regularly for the foreseeable future.
But here’s the thing: I’m not depressed.
No, really. I’m not. Even my doctor says I’m not. What I am is grieving. I’m grieving for the loss of my relationship, for the death of some hopes and dreams.
Those symptoms there on that page I linked? Don’t really have them.
- Oh, I’m sad enough from time to time, usually at night when I’ve crawled into bed and my mind is quieting and I think about how my foot used to curve directly underneath his, how he’d hold my hand as we fell asleep. But the anxiety has subsided, for the most part. I’ve stopped taking the Ativan, except for those nights when I can’t get to sleep, and even then I only take half.
- I do not feel hopeless or pessimistic. In fact, I feel downright hopeful. I’ve always been a “glass is half full” kind of person. Except for the first two or three weeks or so, when I was pretty sure my heart would never reattach itself to my body. But now I feel like I’m going to be ok. Whatever happens.
- What happened with us is not my fault. At least not entirely. Probably not even halfway. I am not unlovable, I didn’t do anything terribly wrong (aside from being human), I’m not wretched or worthless or lacking in some fundamental way.
- I’m not particularly irritable, but I do get a little restless, mostly when I get sick of my own company and need to get out in the world. But I think that’s fairly normal for someone living alone again.
- I’m getting out and about and socializing, I’m enjoying my books and movies and friends and family. And, sweet baby jesus, I’d jump at the chance to get laid. Well, by you know who. I’m not taking applications for bed partners or anything.
- I’m not particularly tired, and I have sufficient energy, although I’m never one for boundless enthusiasm in the physical sphere anyway. I’m a bit lazy. My natural state is probably recumbent.
- I can concentrate, remember details, and make decisions. I just decided to go to lunch with a friend, and I’ve been concentrating on this stupid project in front of me for a good 45 minutes.
- My sleep patterns are fairly normal.
- My eating patterns are fairly normal, too, for me. Which means chocolate is on the menu.
- I am not considering suicide, nor have I ever, not seriously.
- All systems are go, physiologically.
See? Not depressed. Not really. Sad in the odd evenings. Lonely. Missing that man like crazy. But not depressed.
My mother feels otherwise. She’s felt otherwise for about 10 years. I can’t explain it. She is convinced I’m depressed. In a lovely care package she sent me this week, she included a grab bag of makeup samples, some new sheets, a necklace, and a book on depression. Subtle, Mom.
I think she’s confusing ocassional unhappiness or disatisfaction with depression. She uses my affect from 1996 as a yard stick. She says, “Remember how happy you were in Italy? I want you to be that happy again.” Well, fandamntastic, Mom. Let’s get right on that. How about I go back to my 22-year-old self — with all the energy and smooth skin and tight abs and metabolism and naïvité and self-involvement — and study in Florence on your dime and drink all night and kiss cute boys and have not a care in the world? You prepared to fund that little adventure? ‘Cause I damn sure can’t.
She’s unrealistic, right? I mean, shit, life happens. I got older. I got in some debt. I moved around and had some troubles and lost some people and grew up. I work for a living now instead of putting in 20 hours a week at a video store and flirting with customers. LIFE happened. But go ahead, use the happiest, most carefree time of my life as an indicator of my current misery.
Things could be better. I’m not denying that. But they’re not that dang-diddly bad, either, and I’m not channeling Eeyore every day, hanging my head and bemoaning my pitiful existence. I’m not battling that black dog or the mean reds.
She’s worried about me. She loves me and wants me to be happy. I get it. But does she have to depress the hell out of me by insisting I’m depressed?
I think some people mistake the grieving process for being depressed and/or they don’t want to wade through the grieving process (’cause it sucks, duh) so they want to be able to label it something that has a treatment. Seems to me like it sucks but you’re doing pretty well and you should be allowed to wade at your own pace.
But what do I know?
Kizz’s last blog post..Seriously, Y’all
This is the precise reason why I really can´t share with my mom when something is really wrong. Because she will worry and care so much it will smother me and make me feel worse.
You sound like you have your head together Gypsy. I´ve been where you are, and would never have been capable of stringing together a coherent thought even.
That person that was so happy in Italy hadn´t really dealt with life yet, and it´s good that you know that. I forget that about myself a lot and search for someone that just isn´t inside me anymore and shouldn´t be.
bluestreak’s last blog post..A Blue Goodbye
The problem with mothers is they never want to stop mothering. The concern and yiu as a project makes them feel needed and important. I think Blue and Kizz are both right on. You are ok, nothing about things right now is going to leave you woohoo, things are great because like you said, you are in transition right now and not quite sure how things will end up. Like lots of people said at the beginning of this, you will get through it but you have to go through it. You are smart and know your head and your heart. I am a giant glass half full person and when I was depressed I knew it. I cried half the day, unable to soothe myself and calm myself down like I normally can, I had no desire to get out of bed not even to do something fun, I felt worthless like I was doing everything wrong. You? clearly not there. I like presents so I’d probably be calling my mom working it. Hey mom, you know those sheets you sent and the necklace and the xyz? Yeah, it made me feel sooo good today, I spent the whole day thinking how nice it was going to be to come home to pretty sheets and slip into a fresh bed. Yeah mom, more of that please. But that’s cause I’m greedy.
chris/formerlyfun’s last blog post..Girl, You’ll Be a Woman Soon(Enough)
Did I miss the memo where we’re supposed to be that kind of happy all of the time? Because that’s a special kind of happy — the one where you don’t have a care in the world, the future is a long time from now and everything will be swell. This is the kind of happy before you discover that real life can be kind of a pain in the ass. No one was meant to be happy like that all the time.
Grieving sounds about right. Shall we tell Mom not to worry?
Finn’s last blog post..Stupid Finn Tricks: Hindsight
In agreement with all these comments. Grief is so not depression, depression is treatable. Am glad to see the grieving process is on tract.
Chrissy’s last blog post..Headaches will not let me forget
I’m glad to hear that you’re doing what you do best – living. As far as I can tell, you’re amazing at it, and people who think that you’re somehow slowed down are absolutely wrong. God love your Mom, though, for trying so hard to fix what’s not broken.
P.S. I love the fact that you quoted Breakfast at Tiffany’s.
Mistress Mom’s last blog post..Backing Up A Bit
Sounds like she just doesn’t know what to say. That’s what moms do when they can’t fix it.
Carrie’s last blog post..YAY
that is an interesting question… are we meant to be as happy as our happiest year of life? some people would say yes, yes, we are meant to be that happy. except we have to be that happy no matter what is going on around us. that’s the difficult part.
i think depression is like love. sometimes you don’t know the extent of it until you are experience the lack of it. so, if you have a low grade depression, you may not know it until it clears and you feel different. then, you have a comparison point.
mary’s last blog post..
if you can say “hot monkey sex” you aren’t depressed, is all I am sayin’.
flutter’s last blog post..On being realistic
Moms just have to over dramatize everything. If I tell my mom I’m mad sad something, it is with 100% certainty that months later she’ll ask me with the a dramatic sad face if whatever it was worked out– and I don’t even remember what she’s talking about. Did that make sense?
It’s like all moms are Jewish mothers, you may not even know what that means– but you probably do and it’s rather annoying yet endearing.
Flutter’s comment made me laugh…it was similar to what I had in mind of saying!
Glad that everything seems on track. Sorry still so hard….and that you are not getting all the monkey sex you want….things will get easier soon!
PS – Moms are fucked sometimes, mine included
wn’s last blog post..portals
I loved this post because it let me see how very well you really are doing with all this.
Moms want the very best for their kids, no matter how old their kids get. And hey, if you play your cards (mom) right, maybe you CAN get her to spring for that whole Italy thing?!
Have the T-shirt’s last blog post..The Miracles of Modern Medicine
I remember after my sister died and I expressed sadness about it people would say, “You sound depressed.” Or worse, “You should go on an anti-depressant.” I wanted to scream. I mean when did feeling sad become a disease? We live in a society that seems to equate emotion with chemical imbalance.*** Feeling sad after sad events is NORMAL. What you are feeling is normal. In fact, if you didn’t feel some kind of sadness right now that would be abnormal. You seem like a very self-aware person. You are finding your way through the grief process as you mourn your relationship and, like you said, your dreams for the future. And for the record, I’m a “recumbent” person, too. Right now, I’m laying in my bed being the laziest person in the whole, wide world. So, whenever you feel lazy, just know that there’s someone out there who is much, much lazier than you are: Me!
***I’m not saying that there is no such thing as a chemical imbalance. They do exist and cause much suffering and pain. I just don’t believe that there are as many people suffering from these chemical imbalances as the pharmaceutical industry would have us believe. What ails many could be better fixed by six months in therapy than by an anti-depressant. Just my opinion.
Gwen Jackson’s last blog post..My 2 Cents
So what you’re saying is that you’re old and jaded?
No, I know a thing or two about depression and it doesn’t sound like you’ve got it. Happiness in your thirties is different than happiness at 22. More realistic. Deeper. More sober. If that makes sense.
A Free Man’s last blog post..(Not so) Giant Steps
Wow, that would really be annoying. You seem great to me. I want to handle you with kid gloves and be especially careful, because I (and you) remember how fragile I was after breaking up with the chef. I was not at all sure I was going to be okay.
But you, I think, will be okay. I would, however, get your thyroid tested. Just in case.
Your mom has obviously been talking to my mom and they just need to fucking quit it. I hear the “You’re depressed! Get Zoloft!” vibe from my mom constantly and my constant response to her is, “I’m not depressed. I’m tired. So instead of me wasting money on medication I don’t need, why don’t you just babysit my kids one night a week?”
Mothers keep mothering us, even when we’re old enough to be mothers, ourselves. I would say just smile and say thanks and go on.
Coal Miner’s Granddaughter’s last blog post..Leap
Sweet baby Jesus! You said hot monkey sex – that right there is indicative of equilibrium.
Can’t a girl have a little down time to grieve and maybe eat a litle extra chocolate (for the mental boost it gives, yeah, that’s it!) without folks thinking she needs to check into the Betty or take happy pills (though happy pills could be fun…)
You are allowed to be down/ grieving/ in transition/ insert term here as long as you like – I just gave you carte blanche, okay?
we_be_toys’s last blog post..Because This Is How Lazy I Am These Days
“Mom, I’m thinking about seeing a therapist.”
“Honey, whatever for?”
“I don’t know, I just think it’d be nice…”
“You’re not like, depressed? Are you?”
“Actually I think I might be.”
“No, you’re not. Just go yell at Dad, it’ll make you feel better. He’s got tough skin.”
“No he doesn’t–”
“Okay, but I do, and I like watching him squirm.”
See that deft subject change? Deny, deny, deny? That results in self-loathing and wrongness. I love my mom, but in regards to feeling things? Her assessment was nearly always wrong.
I don’t think you’re depressed either, but then again, I don’t ever think anyone is, because of my mom.
rassles’s last blog post..P4C7: Ten Drunks Are Way Easier To Manage Than Forty