i'm sometimes absolutely floored by the fact that my depression can still sneak up on me with such swiftness. these days, when it does, it's fleeting. it stomps around on my shoulders for a short while, and then departs with such a pathetic whimper that i barely notice it's gone until it's been gone a while. that part is expected, known. but for as much as i know how it will leave, it's surprising that its onset can be so, well, surprising.
"what are you doing here?" i almost always have to ask it, startled. and it cackles back at me while it drinks its coffee, a batty, mean old woman, an unexpected guest in the living room of my head. "i live here!" the depression, the old woman, says. and for as long as she stays, we both believe it, she and i.
4 comments:
Hey, I know that old woman! I hate her.
That nasty old woman visits us all from time to time, but she must definitely not be allowed to think she lives in our house. Our lives are too good to put up with the likes of her!
But you do write about her beautifully!
Grandma
That's the most eloquent description of a nasty neighbor who has visited me without invitation and stayed well past bedtime. She lies like a rug, telling me I'm her evil twin. She buzzes in my ear like a pesky fly and jumps out at me from behind bushes at night and stares back at me in the mirror once a month, taunting me like a rabid hyena. So, at times, I fast from mirrors. I wrote a post called "Fasting from Mirrors" several months ago.
By God's grace, she doesn't visit nearly as often.
I so hear you! Mine does exactly that too! At least the days it's there are getting less frequent now!
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