trickydoodle

I haven't left this house since Friday. I haven't been to my own house since before Friday. Not sure if it was Wednesday or Thursday. Hired someone to mow my lawn, as I just can't bear the thought of being that exposed to the general, neighborhood public. And by exposed I simply mean visible. I want to be invisible.

This really isn't as hard on me and I feel like it is.

You know how, if you have the Depression, and someone suggests just "getting over it?" "Just do it. just go somewhere, do something. You'll feel better." And you know how, if you have the Depression, that makes you want to go for that person's jugular? because they suck and just don't get it? This honestly is a case of just needing to do it.

Sure, it's hard. It's always hard when one of these hits me. But much of it is self-imposed this time. As much as I don't want to, I am feeling the deserve to suffer bit. And of course I am. It's my main fall-back to keeping myself unhappy.

I also have this desire to have Robbie with me every night, even though I am well-Robbied-out and could use an overnight break. His happy selfishness does my heart good, though, and I would be lost without his presence. Except I wouldn't be. I'd be fine. I would also be fine if I washed my hair and wore pants that didn't have an elastic waistband. But my grunginess is also comforting and also helping me keep the world at bay.

So much of my life is in my head. I am a terrific combination of complexity and not so much. For the most part, what you see in me is what you get. Wow. That is so incredible true and profound.

What you see in someone *is* what you get.

I guess the trick is to hold that vision.

Maybe that would work for me, with me. maybe I can stop going through the motions, here, and just cut it out and go somewhere and do something. You know, just get over it. Because it is over. And it would be okay for me to feel the relief. Relief feels a lot like hope. I like hope.

The other night, I was outside, smoking, and I could feel how pretty the light was, from the setting sun. I grabbed my camera and tried to photograph the light. And I felt the light. And I was the light. I noticed the more I focused on what the light looked like, the more alive ordinary objects and insects and trees became. Magically.

Maybe I should have turned the camera on myself then. The light was hitting me, too. I felt it. I was part of it. I wonder what that looked like.

The light can turn regular gnats into glowing beams of wonder. What can it do for me?