Checking Out of the Depression Hotel

Spent the weekend at the Depression Hotel. Beat myself until I was black and blue and did the sort of inner questioning that some people have no patience for, including myself. Becoming more patient is one of those things I am still working on. So when I go there, to the bottom, I am impatient for it to end.

But when me & you are black & blue, we’re paralyzed.

I know why I got depressed. I also know practicing yoga or walking works for me, but moving my body from A (depression) to B (contentment) seems impossible. I’m rooted to the spot like gum stomped to the floor.

Here’s what I know because I’ve lived a long time: depression passes. I do not suffer from clinical depression, just regular old rainy day blues. If you have severe depression lasting for a long time, more than a weekend, you need more help than a blog post, and I hope you seek it, for your own sake. I am not a therapist or a doctor. I’ve just been around awhile.

How I checked out of that damn hotel:

Today, it’s a balmy 48 degrees. The sun is shining and so am I. Sun is key to feeling good. But I started feeling better yesterday as my impatient mind searched for ways to feel better. Called a friend. Wrote some emails to another. Replied to comments on the blog. Thank you! Comments make my day. Al must have seen my state because when he got home from work he sat down and talked to me. About our life, where things are headed, how long we want to stay away from Michigan when we retire, where we might visit, and, inevitably, if you know Al, finances.

Everything is good. The economy, our checking account, the future. All is well. Woke up in better shape just from connecting to other people and having Al reinforce the good in our life. We’re going to California in a week! To see our son and his wife. We’re spending a week on the beach, in a room with a balcony and a view of the Pacific.

Today, after talking to another friend on the phone and more through email, I walked. I watched the uplifting video Lisa sent. Then I actually left our rapidly melting igloo.  Soaked in some rays. Saw a cat at the tax office. Which reminded me about who else is in California…Bosco!