It's Oscar night. All America is watching the Oscars. I am watching Doctor Who Revisited on BBC-America. Dear God, thank you for the BBC.
I'm supposed to be at an Oscars-viewing party but I am home nursing two sick cats and an incipient case of massive depression. I'm the depressed one; the kitties just have a rather disgusting pooping problem.
I'd rather have a pooping problem. Tho' actually, to be perfectly honest, pooping problems are somewhat intrinsic to depression. You get depressed; your tummy gets its own version; you have pooping problems. But I am totally not blogging about that.
Depression. I am blogging about depression. (You thought it was the Oscars, didn't you? Bwah hah hah!) Here's the thing: I fight constantly against depression. Tonight, tho', depression gets a victory. Just a minor one, mind you [she types confidently]. I am staging a tactical retreat. My reserves are exhausted; I await reinforcements; I flee back to the ramparts.
In other words, I empty the house (sick kitties don't count) and I watch Doctor Who. Tomorrow I resume the fight. I will claim happiness. I will be fun and funny; I will have the energy for my fellow human beings. Tonight. . . tonight, I need Time Lords and aliens.
Is it bad to prefer the company of Daleks and Cybermen to actual friends and family members? Perhaps a wee bit insane? OK, yes, I do realize the correct answer is "yes." Choosing fantasy aliens is probably not high on the list of acceptable responses to depression. But you know, this is the great thing about facing down 50: The boundaries of "acceptable" prove to be more and more elastic.
At this rate, by the time I hit 60 I'll no longer leave the house and I'll talk only to my cats. Still, cats are Doctor Who fans (I mean, it's obvious). So, all will be well. Maybe in a bizarre, slightly twisted, not exactly normal way, but I no longer aspire toward normalcy. Just being well. And if wellness involves time travel and incredibly sexy aliens and huge doses of fantasy (as well as incontinent kitties), so what?
Geez louise. Go see Silver Linings Playbook (it's up for the Oscar for Best Picture). Then explain to me how to define "normal."
Just found your blog and enjoyed your posts. In fact, your description (in a separate post) made me want to take a short jaunt to 'southern Louiana' for a parade. I love local celebrations I could never see at home.
ReplyDeleteI couldn't help but notice that it's been some months since your last post and hope that is not related to depression.
If you post again, please talk more about life where you are. Are there a lot of transplants, or do people stay put? Is tomato aspic really a thing there, and how do you eat it -- on toast?
I've lived in San Diego all my life and it's a place people come to, stay a few years, then leave. Even family members have left (too crowded here, not the town we grew up in). I fantasize about living in a place where people aren't forever coming and going.
Do share a bit more about your slice of the world. I've traveled a bit there, but that's so much different than living there.
Best,
Elaine
P.S. I'm facing 50 in 2 months and get this: I have a 7 year old!