Monday, November 24, 2014

I Know that Depression Lies, But Sometimes I Forget

The Maud-L e-list is currently discussing depression and medication, and my friend Cari Triple-M posted about how lost and listless and unlike herself she felt after her father died. She lives on the West Coast, a three-hour time difference from me, and I am watching the clock and waiting till it's late enough to call her.

I have a new addiction to talking to friends who have also lost their fathers — mostly because I'm seeking validation that I'm not a loser, despite all evidence to the contrary, as well as reassurance that this too shall pass.

I feel almost undone by grief, and I am ashamed and embarrassed about it. I think my dad would be disappointed in me. I keep on keepin' on, because what choice do I have? But I am not myself.

Usually at this time I'd be planning my annual caroling party, which Good Neighbor Anne and I started in 2002. But this year, my urge to lie low and add nothing new to my to-do list is almost overwhelming. Then again, I love this party, and once it's in full swing I find it incredibly nourishing to my soul. Is it worth the effort involved to get to that point? That's the decision I'm struggling with.

In the meantime, we've planned our Thanksgiving menu, I think it's our best yet, and my mom arrives tomorrow at 11:51 p.m. I LOVE having my mom here! She is the best guest. We are all very excited.

But before then, here's what I need/want to do:
  • Grocery-shop for Thanksgiving 
  • Mend and de-pill the hideous green couch that houses the guest bed
  • Dust
  • Wipe the baseboards
  • Vacuum the basement
  • Deep-clean the kitchen
I've got 48 hours, more or less. No problem.

Today I'm having lunch with Mrs. Cynicletary, which is always a treat, and I'm calling my car guy to find out why they haven't credited the $750 that was "temporarily" charged to my credit card — and also calling Cari Triple-M, as noted, which will be lovely. Maybe I can talk and de-pill at the same time. And it would be great if I could do some editing for Harvard in there somewhere.

In other news, I've been reading up a storm:

And here's what I've got on my stack:

I'm in a mystery phase right now. The weather is chilly, and there is nothing lovelier than curling up under a blanky with a hot drink and a mystery. The puzzle is resolved, the bad are punished, the wise are rewarded. So satisfying!!

Off to . . . get dressed, I guess. It's dark and rainy outside, I haven't made my bed yet, and climbing back into it sounds almost unbearably appealing. But my list calls . . .

— Lady C, not her usual ebullient self, but working on it


  1. I can't believe Google ate my long thoughtful comment!
    What I said, in miniature, is that when my mother died Christmastime 2002, it ripped a hole in my universe, and I kind of resented the American idea that we should just snap out of our grief. To me, it honors how much we loved our parent and how much they loved us... In Judaism, you are actually expected to mourn for a full year, in respect, and THEN snap out of it and return to life.
    For me, it really did take a year, so that made sound psychological sense to me (of course, the timing's different for everyone)---to me, your grief is a testament to what a great father your father was.
    My best to you---Fresca

    1. Sorry about losing your comment! I feel your pain -- happens to me all the time. Google is a meanie!

      My friend, thank you so much for your kind and thoughtful words. I think you are exactly right. It will take as long as it takes for me to adjust to a life without my darling, funny dad in it -- and that is absolutely a testament to the size of the role he played. (and now I'm tearing up again . . . ah, crap)

  2. It was eighteen months before I felt like myself after my Father died.

    1. Yep — that makes sense. Our sweets dads left huge holes in our lives, and a huge hole takes time to repair.


  3. Boo! Hiss! to feeling ashamed and embarrassed. Your feelings are your feelings, period. You are in a no judgement zone. Please, give yourself a break and know that you will come through this in time.

    1. Such a voice of reason you are! Thank you. A "no judgment zone" sounds pretty good to me! See you soon. xx