More Demons; Checking Myself

 My eighth post for January.  Meaning that I have a lot to unload.
It helps to look at the posts for previous Januaries.  I realize I go through this every year - and I survive every year.

It's just the juxtapositions of dates.  We met in January (the 24th).  His birthday is on the 27th.

But also in January he went to the hospital.  The 13th was when he got his stem cell transplant.  At the time, we were told it would take about a week - maybe 10 days - before we saw the uptick in numbers that showed it had taken hold.  So by now - the 26th - we were starting to get the first intimations that things were not going as planned.

So I know this is a rough time.  This year I had A Plan - to just keep busy, try to stay out of my own head.  Last Tuesday I had the lunch with old friends at the museum.  The plan was to go to work Wednesday and Thursday.  The library book club meeting was Thursday evening.  Friday was my dentist appointment.  Saturday Adrianne wanted to go to the yarn store in Thomasville.  Sunday was the Silent Book Club meeting.

Well - I went to the Tuesday lunch.  But Tuesday evening this freak storm came in, and I've been trapped ever since.

I've had to keep an eye on myself.  Depression can sneak up on you.  I have to look at myself with an outsider's eye to watch out for signs (same as you would watch for signs in someone else).

Three day's worth of dishes piled in the sink.

When was the last time I ran a vacuum cleaner around?
When was the last time I washed my hair?

I tend to wear a light tank top under my clothes, and when I sleep.  When was the last time I put on a fresh one?
How much wine am I drinking (this one is odd - my drinking actually tends to go down when I'm depressed, which is probably a good thing)
Am I keeping regular hours?  (uh - I've been staying in bed an hour or two after waking up, and last night I sat up until 2 a.m., eating cookies and flipping through YouTube videos without watching any of them)

Yep.  The black dog (a symbol a friend uses for his depression) has come to visit.

On the other hand, I also noticed that the cats, chickens, squirrel, and fish are being cared for (the chickens are even getting morning oatmeal).  Litterboxes are cleaned every day.  I'm eating decent food, even if I'm eating at odd times (breakfast at 11, lunch at 3).  Still meeting my walking goals for the challenge (minimum of 2.5 miles a day).

So it's not too bad; I just need to pull up my big girl panties and deal.  I know from past experience that I can handle the depression by treating the symptoms.  Hair is washed and fresh tank top on.  Dishes and vacuuming will be done. Hours can be kept . I'll be OK.

I'm still wrapping my head around a dream I had a couple of days ago, about Bob [side note - I love it when I dream of him.  It's like getting to see him].  Most of the time, even in my dreams, I know he's dead, and often I'm apologizing for the changes that I've made since then.  But this time, it was just a fragment.  He was there, and a little confused, and I heard myself say "This is how things are done around here now.  I didn't know you would ever come back."   I woke up, and found myself wondering how long it would take me to adjust if he did come back, after almost 5 years of being on my own.  Those weird 3 a.m.  thoughts.  [another side note - not bloody long.  I just got a letter from the insurance company that they inspected my roof, and I need to get it replaced.  In Ye Olde Days - that would be the end of my part.  Somehow roofers would appear and  it would get done.  Now, calling the insurance company and the roofing company and arranging everything has been added to my "things to do list."]

I've also been dealing with the feelings of disassociation.   It's been coming on with the stream project.  For the past 5 years, if anyone has asked where I live, I mention that I live on 5 acres of land.  The other four acres has seemed somehow abandoned.  But now I've reclaimed it.  It's lovely and wonderful and primitive and I keep walking down there, but I haven't quite wrapped my head around the idea that it's mine.  I feel like I'm wandering into someone else's world. Something primitive and magical.   And then we get this freak ice storm which increased the feeling of unreality (the music from Narnia keeps running in my head)

My feeling of being disconnected increased over the next few days.  The highway, of course, isn't shaded, and the asphalt absorbs heat.  So by Friday I would walk down my ice covered driveway and across my ice-covered bridge to go check my mail, and as soon as I'm off my own land everything is looking normal, with the cars going back and forth, and even the roadside has thawed (because it's not under the shade of trees).  And then I turn around - and it's still snow-covered Narnia.

By yesterday things were getting above freezing, and the driveway was becoming passable - except for the bridge, which still had two inches of ice on it.  Pretty as it was, I knew it was reflecting the sunlight and not melting, so I went and shoveled off what I could, exposing the gray solid ice and dirt underneath to melt.  Today after lunch I went down to check it - and it was still covered in frozen mud.  My (many times rescheduled) dentist appointment is tomorrow.  I started feeling a hopeless frustration.  I'm tired of being trapped, afraid that if I try to get the car across it I could skitter sideways into the ditch (a 10-foot drop).

Screw that.  I went to the barn and dragged down the flame thrower.  I could melt chunks of the mud and then shovel them off the bridge.  It took awhile, and I'm a little sore, but tomorrow I can get back to normal.

Whatever the hell that is.