What This Blog is Not

Who wants their blog to be depressing?  Come on, let's see a show of hands!   No, really, no one?  Shocker.  Me neither.  Problem is...I've been really depressed lately.  Like, can't-get-out-of-bed-without-help kind of depressed.  Like sitting-in-the-shower-for-an-hour kind of depressed.  But the best advice I've gotten (yay for my therapist!) is that - and I swear I have heard this countless times and yet I need to hear this a gazillion more times before it gets through my thick, thick skull - the best thing to do when you're depressed and all you want to do is lay in bed all day is to go through the motions.  Get up.  Shower.  Put on clothes.  Go to work.  Do it all, even if you're miserable while you're doing it.  Because it's only going to be a hell of a lot more miserable, lying in bed all day crying.

So.  Going through the motions also equals writing, even when I don't feel like it, because writing is as therapeutic for me as is well, going to therapy.  I've been trying for days to think of something to write about that does not turn my blog into a Debbie Downer, even if that's how I feel, so here are a few happy things.

1.  I wrote a short essay for my Yale application today about my volunteering experience.  I was (and am) proud of the essay, and it made me think and remember and be grateful for the two years I spent volunteering at the Northampton Interfaith Homeless Shelter.  My life was changed by the experience, and I am grateful that I had the chance to be a part of so many lives even in such little ways as playing cards, serving dinner, and hearing the guests' stories.  I will always remember them.
2.  I got to see my amazing mother this past weekend.  She listened to me, she talked with me, she helped me clean, she helped me pack, she took care of Rupert - she was my wonderful, sweet, supportive, loving mama.  I am lucky to have her and I am grateful every day for her.
3.  My mom and I had the following conversation after I returned from the pharmacy:

Me: What does it mean if a guy pharmacist tells me he likes my scarf?  Does it mean he's hitting on me, or he's gay?
My mother: I think it means he likes your scarf.

Touche, mom.

4.  I got to ride a horse on Monday for the first time in a couple of years.  Someday soon I'll write a post about how much riding means to me and how excited I am that it's back in my life.  Suffice to say now, settling into the saddle on Elvis's back felt like coming home.

There are big changes going on in my life right now.  Some good, some not so good.  But change, whether I like it or not, is inevitable and it's happening and there's nothing I can do about it.  So I'm just trying to hang on for the ride and go through the motions.  And limit my shower time to less than twenty minutes.