I admit it openly now: I have been depressed for at least a couple of months now. I have taken steps to prevent it from taking too deep a toll on my life, but I ran out of clean dishes almost two weeks ago and I’ve only showered once so far in September. I was writing about being conflicted over doing more comics, trying to decide what words should follow, and I thought that maybe I should mention how my depression was not helping me really focus on getting things done. Then my mind immediately popped up to try to defend itself against depression, trying to give examples of how it’s not all bad. I remembered something I got in the mail this week, and all of a sudden a smile broke my face.
Even as I write this, just having thought about somone taking the time to hand-write a letter, and to me, is lightening my mood. The contents of the letter are coming to mind now, and that sure is lifting the desperation and funk that was settling over me tonight. I’ll probably grab and re-read the letter before I go to bed, but even just remembering it helps so much.
I have known for a long time that I need constant reminders of things or they slip my mind entirely for a time. With things that are important to me, they will eventually occur to me again, but without some sort of regular and consistant reminder, I con forget even the most important of things. I can forget whole people. I can forget holidays and birthdays and anniversaries and weddings and funerals and if it weren’t still all over the web about creating some sort of river of blood or donating to some all-celebrity charity, I’d forget that the east coast existed at all.
Of course, when I do get reminded of something, it comes comepletely back to me with full force. I keep the most powerful reminders closed up in a small black box so that I don’t see them very often. Something came up in conversation recently that called for me to look through my little black boxes, and just thumbing through some of the old notes and letters, a wave of emotions and memories washed over me and nearly unseated me. I was able to pretty much carry on without incident, but the strength with which things come back to me doesn’t ever seem to get much easier, and I know it is because of how missing they are from me when they are gone.
Sometimes they are happy, sometimes they are sad, sometimes they are just reminders to brush my teeth or to eat lunch… sometimes the memories just leave me feeling empty. Today, it was something happy, and I wanted to share it. I’ll go back and see if I can pick up where I left off in the other window.
