Monday, January 12, 2009

Profound Mundania

For some reason, okay from a total funk due to the proverbial wrench, I spent some time Saturday morning reading through past posts. About this time last year, I was coming out of the tail end of a pretty bad depression. I realized that H might have a point that my depression is linked to the seasons. Now that things are lightening up here (yes yet another reason to love the South), I am finding myself not so mournful. In fact, I have taken my meds for a few days....
Which no doubt calls for an explanation. I do have some left in the cupboard, I didn't just stop without a fall back. I forgot to take them on Friday. I woke up Saturday feelings with a sharpness, a color a vivid intensity that had been lacking....a lack that I didn't notice until it came back. And yes not all the feelings were positive (due to the above mentioned wrench) but the intensity was nice, and of course at this point, I felt a bit more capable of mucking through the crap. And I did. Instead of sulking all day which I wanted to do, I spend some quality time with H, picked up repaired cars, brought the kids on a bike ride, and had a spontaneous gathering with copious amounts of red wine, hummus, and pita chips and best of all friends.

Thus I am left with wondering about the meds. Did they help? Yes, they actually did, and I wished I had started them in October when things were getting really yucky. Do they numb me? Why yes, and I suppose that in some ways that is why they help. Where I am now? I don't know. I haven't had any meds since Friday, and right now I don't plan on taking any. I have some ideas about therapy (I'm trying to figure out a way to afford a cognitive therapist). I suspect I have a seasonal thing, and am looking into ways to combat that come next year. Yes I am dreadfully fucked up. I know this but I am not sure if I want to keep taking drugs....perhaps if I could for a part of the year? I just don't know at this point where I will go with this decision. I'll keep you updated.

Last night as H and I were attempting to go to sleep....H felt a need to launch into a discussion about memory. I hate it when he does this...he picks the most inopportune times to think about these profound topics. I was at that point when I knew if I didn't sleep soon, I'd be in the grip of insomnia. But he was off, and there wasn't much I could do because of course it was fascinating. H finds himself troubled by memories in ways that I am not. He sees them as unwanted experiences for reasons I'll let him expound on in his own blog.

But what I was thinking about as he talked is how memory works in two ways (at least for me). There is a fictional aspect to memory that is obviously created. When I tell stories here about my past, it is a literary engagement. It is a creation that perhaps at one point may have had a foundation in some kind of notion of reality...but through the telling it is embellished. The memories I create stories of are memories tinged with the memories of others, photographs, and the ever present present in the past. But then there are these other memories that i think of has being much more primordial. They are body memories that surface unexpectedly because of some kind of physical stimuli. The smell of Mexico City in the early afternoon, slammed me with a fragmentary slew of images from an earlier visit to the D.F. The way that a APTBS' song left me with the unsettled feeling that I was once again 20, at Astor Cafe on Monroe Ave in Rochester...the way that a certain shirt feels against my skin, or the way that someone else's body touching mine brings a physical experience of images from the past. These glimpses are fast, fleeting, and not linear. There are no stories to them as they come. They are physical in ways that my memory creations are not.

And lastly, H and I talked about being older and death. H is always agitated that people don't
find the time before being born as freaky. He finds it confusing that the nothingness of death is more frightening the nothingness of beginning. But for me I argue, I have felt that beginning. I have carried that beginning in my body. While I may not remember my own beginning, nor will my beasties remember their beginnings, I do have a physical experience of such a thing. I have not, I argued with him, carried death. H says that we all carry death.

Finally a picture of my wine drenched Saturday evening...solely because I need some lightness after carrying death, and also because I promised (threatened) D that I would post the evidence on my blog...


OMG...D drinking wine? I am such a dreadful influence.

My beautiful profound husband.

D and I both a slight bit tipsy at this point. Note how old I look. Sigh.

6 comments:

The Fearless Freak said...

"He finds it confusing that the nothingness of death is more frightening the nothingness of beginning."

Because the beginning is over and done and you made it through. There is no reason to freak out and worry about something that happened in the past because you can't change it.

Of course, you can't change the fact that you are going to die either but things that haven't happened yet can be fretted about. Especially for me because I'm a worrier, in general.

Ephémère said...

I recognize for sure an air de famille in my brother's anguish.
Yes we carry death, cause we carry life, though I am sure that carrying life literally in one's womb is a splendid experience that I hope to live one of these days...
I thought of DHL reading you post, Ginger, your reflections and Horacio's...
Asi que gracias.
And I keep turning around last summer memories with the five of you in Mexico.

The Bear Maiden said...

*sigh*. Lately there is only one person that I have those lovely, profound conversations with. And I don't ever think he'll be my husband.

...you are blessed...

Momma Mikki said...

A word of warning from one woman who is currently dealing with depression - I went off my drugs and then back on and then back off...to disasterous results. If you continue to not take the drugs, stay off them for a period before you go back on. And, remember, it will take as long for you to feel the effects of not having the drugs in your system as it did for you to feel the effect of the drug in the first place.

Ginger As in Green Tea... said...

Carrie,
H liked your thoughts...he's still pondering them I think.

Tania, yes it was rather DHL like moment...in particuliar the ideas about body memory. He influences me unaware. I am still thinking about death...I had the same thought you had when i was writing the post. Interesting. I am hoping that perhaps we can have lots of Mexico DF visitors in Charlotte this year as it looks like we might not have the money to fly this year.

Mikki,
I wasn't on the drugs for very long...about six weeks (give or take)and low dosages for both. I had not sideeffects for example (headaches etc) but we'll see. If I survive, I likely won't do them again.

Lolabola* said...

Ginger! I had a most interesting dream last night where I was traveling through your area and decided to call you up. You invited me over and it took us a while to get past the immediacy of seeing each other in person. Rather, we both were having trouble with me being in your personal space. The kids were confused and uncomfortable as well so H was trying to get them involved in an art project of sorts. It was a sort of 'who is this strange lady that seems to know us but not really'? In the end all the strangeness passed and we had a wonderful very peaceful and relaxing visit.

Your house was really really big, something like three houses in one and each room had a fireplace but only one was a functional one. the others were lovely and decorative in totally different styles. It was such an oasis in there. You showed me the table where your thesis was laid out and you were working on it. The view from the desk was a partially opened shuttered door to the street. The wood of the table and the door was so rich and dark I wanted to sit at the table for the rest of the visit.

thanks for having me over! you are welcome here any time