“In addition to my other numerous acquaintances, I have one more intimate confidant. My depression is the most faithful mistress I have known — no wonder, then, that I return the love.” – Soren Kierkegaard
The leaves are changing. The morning air is crisp. Songs are becoming heavier and slower. My weight has increased. Laura and Kyle do not like Sundays. Sundays fill them with dread and it ruins their day. This is how I feel about fall. Each day of fall, is just one day closer to winter, one day to closer to cold, one day closer to darkness, one day closer to death.
All the fruits of our love from summer are now rotten or dried. The stench they emit would offend Oscar. Their faces are so ugly that their own mother would despise them. Switzerland would start a war to be rid of them. Jesus would not even love them, and he loves everybody!
Fall fills me with dread. that ugly orange leaf on the tree outside of my office will be gone soon and I will be staring at a barren branch amongst a yard of white and dirty road colored snow, lazily pushed onto the parkway. Everything slows down in the fall and the days become shorter. The sun used to set at 9:30 and now it will be 6:30. I used to drive to work in the sunlight. Now it is dark.
I can see how someone can chew on the end of a barrel when they live in the midwest during the fall. They become stir crazy and complacent and can’t take anything else. They can’t stand one more damned minute of sitting inside, staring at the cold rain. It becomes a burden to go outside. The thought of going out in the bitter cold rain turns to thoughts of eating a bottle of ambien and drinking a 1/5 of vodka.
Depression is not only a state of mind. It is something that consumes your every thought and interaction. It is an addiction that rivals nicotine. You feel good when you are not using depression. But then you feel that drag. You feel like your self again and you hate every minute of it. If only you could have held out a little longer you could have kicked the habit. Maybe I won’t be depressed after Christmas. Maybe not until New Years. For me, I’m on the wagon until at least the end of March.
“That terrible mood of depression of whether it’s any good or not is what is known as The Artist’s Reward.” – Ernest Hemingway
As with everything, like migraines, I’ve learned to cope. I’ve surrounded myself with the best family I could ask for. Two awesome kids and a super sexy wife, the MILF of my children. So, when the air starts to crisp and the leaves start to change, look around and notice that everyone’s smiles have gone south for the winter.
Please to enjoy.