Sadder Day

Today, I was visited by an old acquaintance of mine who I hadn't seen in a while. I call him Depression Toad.


Up until a few weeks ago, I hadn't felt his presence in months. I had problems, sure, but nothing that couldn't be defeated with Internet porn, taking a walk while listening to music, reading magazines while drinking coffee, or thinking about Ol' Dirty Bastard.



Then, my Zayde passed away. My enthusiasm for life, this blog, getting a job, and personal relationships greatly waned. I don't know if it was seeing my Bubbie in tears or lack of sleep coupled with the stress that week, but my general attitude changed. I was on a pretty good roll for a few months there, even after some invasive procedures into my stomach and teeth. But those three days in Toronto killed it.

When I got back, I decided that I needed new furniture, and spent too much time on craigslist procuring new items. I made new business cards. I got weirder with this blog. I did everything but sit down and talk about my shit to someone who cares enough about me to listen without passing judgment.

I realize now that I was just trying to keep myself busy, because I already knew that I had lost a step, and wanted desperately to keep rolling on as if nothing had changed. This faulty behavioral path backfired, obviously.

And today was a wakeup call. I got up after 11 hours of sleep, drank some coffee, felt horrible, took a nap, woke up, felt like compressed gray gloom, got invited out to a bar by a friend, declined, felt guilty, ate some food, and here we are.

The good thing is that I realize what I must do to pull out of this tailspin, and I will. But today reminded me of bleak Chicago winters, especially last winter, when everybody feels the way I did today; alone, tired, irritable, not wanting to go out, and having to psyche yourself up to get up and go to the bathroom or make something to eat.

I truly fear those winter days, because I need a little help from somebody who cares during those times. But it's hard to get together, as people are reticent to do anything outside their comfortably heated apartments, and they probably feel like shit as well. I'm not good on the phone, so I need to meet up with someone in person. But it takes a reason or a gimmick to get someone to come out of the house when it's 14 degrees outside and the sun was last seen with its father, Gilberto Hernandez, last November (missing children jokes are hilarious, right?). God, Jesus, Allah, and Buddha, I hate the fucking winter!

But maybe that's what this blog is for, on certain occasions. Letting off some steam so my pipes don't burst. Shifting the burden of sadness from me onto you. I hope my wretched rant wasn't too much, and if you've gotten this far, thanks for reading. I feel better already.

What do you say, Depression Toad?