When Depression Strikes The Silly Girl

jess-new-girl-jpgThis year has been… well… an experience.  I turned 30 (technically that was last Dec, but still), an age that so far I am in love with.  I started a new job, which has brought me a lot of personal and professional fulfillment and growth, as it was almost tailor made for me.  I moved to my own little apartment and left the world of roommates behind.  I traveled a lot, although mostly for work and not enough for pleasure.  I lost a dear friend, suddenly and tragically while we were on a work trip together, as well as other family members.  I was able to watch my best friend have a baby, reaffirming my total feminist view that women completely and utterly rock!  I have had other situations, more personal than I care to share,  come up unexpectedly that threw me into completely uncharted territory that I had to try to navigate through, as well as old emotions come up that I thought were long ago put to rest.  I feel like I have loved a lot, and lost a lot.  It’s been the epitome of a whirlwind/roller coaster hybrid, which is not my favorite.  I prefer Disneyland to Magic Mountain for a reason.  Steady, easy keel, and pretty is my favorite.  Too much movement makes me nauseous and too much chaos in my life makes me a control freak.  Which, as it turns out, I have been finding myself freaking in that department more than I feel comfortable with.  It’s a real treat!

Depression is not a word that suits me, and it is something about as far from my personality and vocabulary as you can get.  Anyone who follows me on social media knows that I prefer silliness, above all.  I live for the weird moments where you see a hot dog and a clown fighting on the street corner, or a man J walking his chicken on a leash.  When you live for weird, and you watch for it closely, there’s very little room for depression.  Plus, I grew up in the country.  Country people do not get depressed.  Well, we aren’t supposed to anyways.  We put on our work boots and get through it.  We don’t get all self-reflective and moody.  You “keep on keepin’ on,” “cowboy up,” and “get ‘er done.”  Even though I never was the cowboy type, there were enough around that the mentality was pretty ingrained in the culture.  Plus, lots of pioneer stock.  Again, depression is not really an option.

So how on earth does someone who is just a giant goofball, who loves sparkles and Disney, deal with life when the spoonful of sugar still isn’t helping the medicine of life go down?  Well… like I mentioned earlier, one way is to become a complete control freak.  That’s really fun.  I’m really SO not serious.  Logically, I know I can no more control anything around me than I can become a mermaid (although I would LOVE to try that), yet controlling CoCo has just been having a hay day.  I also found a new love for shopping.  Like I need anything new.  If you have ever seen my clothing collection, you would know that is the furthest thing I should be spending my time doing.  I find clothes (and underwear) on a regular basis that have tags on them that have never been worn.  This is a problem.  Praise the Lord that I am single, so I can go through this new process without the added stress of someone telling me that I can’t.  Honestly, I’m rebellious enough I would probably do it anyways and be single in the end, so yes, single is perfect for this new shopping phase of my life.  I also do a lot of redirecting, which is not new.  I have always been pretty good at pretending my troubles away.  Well, there’s a point where, as Uncle Remus says, “You can’t run away from trouble. There ain’t no place that far.”  So, I get to cry more than I like as a result, because those dang troubles seem to keep finding me at the most random and inopportune times.  I am sure that is compounded by the insomnia that has crept into my bed and cursed me with the night-time itchies instead of sleep.  I’m glad I invested in cute glasses a couple of years ago, because tears and contacts don’t mix.  Just don’t be the person who gives me a hard time about wearing my glasses, “because I’m hiding my eyes, and my eyes are so pretty.”  Really?  Vanity is the last thing on my mind.  Ask my hair.  It gets washed maybe twice a week these days (but my body gets cleaned more, so no need to worry there).   Finally, I eat crappy food.  A lot!  Still strictly no meat, but hello buttercake!  My stomach is constantly in knots anyways, so what’s a little extra lube in my intestinal tract going to hurt?  I get to throw up a lot, too, which I don’t like and is not on purpose.  That’s just gross.

Needless to say, the mess that is me right now has been a real joy to try to figure out.  I’m not writing this blog post so anyone will feel bad for me.  In fact, I hate pity.  So please, do not do it.  I just need to take time to do things that I love, one of which is writing.  Where this has infiltrated a lot of my life these days, it’s the fodder I have to write about.  I have a great grief counselor who has helped me deal with a lot of this mentally, and have also started to take steps to deal with this crazy mess in my head in both spiritual and physical ways as well.  I’m going to be just A-OK and back to my typical sass in no time.  The good news is, I’m back to writing.  I promise this will be the closest to a “woe is me” post I will write.