Depression – melodynamic

Almost October

Another month is fading out, sunshine giving more room for cloudy days and the sound of rain barely heard over the whir of the fan in the humid darkness. No longer summer but not yet fall, the trees hang quietly dripping the last of the night’s rain in preparation for the next dark clouds blowing across the middle of the day to lash the window with blurring streams.

The green remains in the leaves which in turn remain on the trees, keeping them clothed for a little while longer. Soon enough the autumn which in other places hails the brightest of colors, the crispest of mornings, the frost on the ground, and the smell of raked up piles burning to ash. Here, quieter colors tempered by quieter growth tempered by duller light, soggy mornings, soggy coats, and the smell of soggy mold.

Not always. Today can be confused with always. Today, the humidity is weighing me down.

Born in the Heat of Summer

I’m an August baby. We are wonderful people, generally speaking, and can light up a room like sunshine pouring in through the windows even in the cloudiest weather, provided there are people around us.

It might be just me and not every August person, but when there is no one around and the clouds stay too long, my mood grows dark and brooding like a coming storm. Maybe I should be like a flower, feeding and basking in the rain, finding strength and beauty in the gray world in which they live. I’m not a flower, though. I love the first day of rain, especially as it is watering the yellowing lawn, and revitalizing the plants and shrubs. The second day of dreary weather darkens my soul. I feel I’m being pulled down toward a drain where the rushing water sucks at my life, covering me until I can’t breathe.

When the sun returns, as it will, I slowly return to a more ‘normal’ state of mind. I love the sunshine, so answer this. Why do I not love the heat? My body is revolted by it. Tremors and fever are the result of exposure to heat, along with nausea and exhaustion. Summer means long hours in my air-conditioned bedroom. It means being unable to be involved in every family activity. It means the very thing I love causes the thing that I hate, and that hates me.

I’m going to fight back. I’m going to buy a cooling vest. I will go to Hawaii next year. I will love the sunshine, I will snorkel, I will look weird in the vest, and I will survive the heat. It will be glorious.

I think I’ll get that vest very soon. This August baby is going to rock the rest of the summer.

Standing in My Mind

Today I sit leaning back in the recliner
Dreaming of strength
Remembering better times
And seeing myself through the eyes of others.

In my mind I see me young and slim,
Independent, intelligent, indestructible.
Was I living in my mind even then?

Was it ever true? Was I shy,
Needy and broken?
Did I accomplish, did I grow,
Or did I hide inside of myself?

Ah, well, that is the past,
This is now and now is the time
I am standing strong and tall
In my mind.

After the Rain

So many gray days, no blue peeping between the clouds, and then – a day of light, fluffy white clouds drifting through a blue sky and my desperate dreams of primroses and crocuses become a reality. I love planning the planting, eager to weed out the weeds and feel the soil move as I prepare it for bright and varied colors and kinds.

Though I can do so little to make this happen I will enjoy doing what I am able to do. I will enjoy teaching my grandchildren to do things for me, and it will still be my garden. I think of myself as author, producer and director. But what if it rains every weekend until June? It won’t. It can’t. After rain there is always sunshine and clouds for dreaming and trees adding leaves. It’s spring and my garden will grow and it will be watered and fed, and after the rains I will sit on the back porch and saturate my soul with sunshine and flowers.

After the rain.

And once again

I feel like I have been here before, my giant squirrel cage pushing my past into my face, the horrible gritty feeling of being in the wrong lane, or going the wrong direction on a one way street. How can I possibly have missed my way when my way is stationary, only my mind traveling relentlessly in what feels today like ever-diminishing circles. Mommy, mommy, my cage is too tight!

There I sat, my lifeline in my lap, spewing dreams and old news in no meaningful order, and suddenly had the terrible sensation of living the wrong life, writing the wrong words, failing to achieve, or even to remember the goal. Aaah! I can’t breathe!

PCDD

It was the day after Christmas and all through my house

Not a creature was stirring, not a cat, not a mouse

The dog was all settled with me in my bed

And visions of family danced in my head.

The house had been full, Christmas Eve, Christmas Day,

Adults sharing gifts, children at play.

Then came the next day, all quiet and calm

Which to my twitchy soul should have been a great balm.

Instead a great weight fell, rimmed with a dark border

I call the Post Christmas Depressive Disorder.

I’m better today, though, I’m pleased to say.

Two beautiful children are coming to stay.

TV and popcorn and a kiss and a hug

We snuggle together like bugs in rug.

And then tomorrow all through this bright house

Adults and children, maybe even a mouse.

After they leave there returns the dark border

I call the Post Children Depressive Disorder.

Denise A. Carr