This is the webcam image from Acadia National Park this morning:
I would give my LEFT NUT to be there right now. You know, if I had nuts.
So, Calvin made it home safe and sound yesterday, a couple of hours past his scheduled arrival time. Seems a certain intrepid baggage handler drove the baggage truck into the airplane Calvin was on (can you say, FIRED?), and put a good sized HOLE in said airplane, right before everything was buttoned up for take-off. So they had to offload all of the passengers, offload all of the baggage, find another airplane, RE-load all of the baggage, and RE-load all of the passengers.
Suffice to say, all of the delayed passengers were okay with the whole switcheroo, since HI, airplane with no holes = okey dokey artichokey.
He called me on my cell when he landed. I was just getting onto the elevator in the parking garage at the airport. I told him I’d meet him in baggage claim, and stood by the escalators watching people come into view feet-first as they descended (“The escalator is ending. Please watch your step. The escalator is ending. Please watch your step. The escalator is ending. Please watch your step.”). When he finally came into view my heart did that glad little patter that you just can’t fake – I’m still in love with the guy, after all these years.
Despite the fact that Calvin is home again, this morning I find myself struggling with the blues. It’s always a crap shoot, with me. Will my anxiety rear its head today, or will I have to deal with depression? It’s usually one or the other – sometimes both, which is conflicting, to say the least (“I’m hyper! But I’m sad! I want to sleep all day! But running around the block sounds nice! The world is coming to an end! But this blanket is so cocoony! I’m not hungry! But let’s eat everything in the house anyway!”). But rarely do I have a day when I’m not dealing with SOME sort of mind fuck, at least to some slight degree.
Today, it appears to be depression’s turn.
Since going off meds (which used to deal with things FOR me, bless ’em), I have discovered that I have two ways in which I am naturally inclined to deal with my depression. Method #1: Wallow wallow wallow, sleep all day, avoid life in general, and eat Very Bad Things. Method #2: Get hyperactive, clean the house until my brains leak out of my ears, or find some other project type thing that has little intrinsic value other than to keep me distracted.
So far today, with the exception of the eating of bad things (I’ve only had coffee thus far), I tried Method #1. I woke up just before seven, but lolled about in bed until nine. I wanted to go back to sleep but couldn’t. My brain wandered around in search of a place to land. I got extremely pissed off at the cats, who were taking turns coming into the bedroom and reminding me that they hadn’t been fed yet (despite the fact that they have a full bowl of dry food – why have cereal when you can get someone to make you Liver Surprise?). I had a great big huge pity party of one, which may or may not have involved some silent brain screaming.
I finally gave up the whole sleep all day idea, and got up. Made the coffee, fed the (GOD DAMN) cats, topped off the dogs’ water bowl, and gave the lizards their morning greens. Futzed around on TweetDeck, checked my e-mail, checked my feed reader. Drank some coffee. Sighed.
(Calvin’s still asleep, otherwise he’d be complaining that I’m, “sucking up all the oxygen”. I guess I sigh a lot.)
And here I sit, with this entry that’s going nowhere except to demonstrate to the Internet At Large that I have a fucked up brain.
I’m going to give Method #2 a shot, and spend some time today getting the upstairs bedrooms and bathrooms in order. They haven’t had a REALLY good cleaning/organizing since the kids moved out last year. They’re just presentable enough not to have, like, creatures growing in dark corners and whatnot. It would be nice to know that if we ever had a surprise house guest, we’d at least have a decent bedroom to put them up in. In which to put them up? Something.
There’s also a good solid workout on my agenda. I’ve been surprising myself at how well I’ve been sticking to the whole exercise thing – better than my diet anyway (hello, sliders and french fries and beer (oh my!) at Jersey’s last night). Eventually, some switch will be thrown over in my body’s internal mechanisms, and I’ll start actually losing a measurable amount of weight! Dammit.
Okay, looks like “Method #3 – Write Myself Out” has gotten me over the hump. I’d love to hear from you guys, though. When you know you need to change the mood you’re in (depression, anxiety, anger, sadness, whatever’s going on) what do YOU do?