When you hit the black hole of depression, you wonder if you’ve stirred something up from the murky depths of your gene pool … or whether your dramatic response is APROPRIATE.
I'm meeting a friend tonight who I haven't heard from in months. Rachael is smart and sophisticated with an artsy little home near the beach.
I'm meeting a friend tonight who I haven't heard from in months. Rachael is smart and sophisticated with an artsy little home near the beach.
A few years ago she was a very successful mortgage broker. In the past few years … not so much.
She called a few weeks back when I was in utter despair, too depressed to answer the phone; she didn’t leave a message. I had to compose myself before I could compose a quick email ... I think I asked if she was OK. It was weird to hear from her after all these months.
She wrote back something uncharacteristically snotty like “yeah, WHY?”
During the depths I got paranoid and started assuming everyone I cared for no longer cared for me.
Today Rachael called again; this time I was ok to answer. She's as low as I've been. We both babbled like schoolgirls, sharing and confessing - two baby boomers in similar boats.
She told me she has a friend who wakes up every morning and thinks "FUCK - I'm still alive." It was shocking to hear someone say that out loud. I was thinking the same thing. The only comforting aspect of not having health insurance is knowing you don’t have to worry about treatment options if you get sick. You can just GO*.
But that’s not what I was worried about. In recent weeks I was freaked wondering how I would live and WHERE I would live if I couldn’t support myself. My son's place is too small and his life full of responsibilities. I have no doubt my mom and stepdad would say no if I asked to stay with them. My step-dad would say "if we do it for her, we have to do it for the grandkids". While my one stepbrother is in a supportive relationship, his sons live deeply troubled lives.
My folks live in a giant house on 80 acres. They have room in their house, but not in their hearts. I'm sure if my step-dad dies, it would be a different story for me. Or if something happens to my mom's health. But then that place would kill us both. In the Lake Superior area, the snow gets waist deep with temps so low it’s dangerous to leave the house. It was a dismal realization, to know that in a worst case scenario, I have nowhere to go.
Rachael is in that same place, too old for anyone to want her and too young for Social Security. Her house is in foreclosure. In hurricane season with no home insurance, she has stored the furniture and kept only her bed and TV.
When we talk on the phone, her voice echoes across the deep red Spanish tiles where her baby grand once stood.
On the bright side, foreclosures take a while and she probably has three months left. Then she worked out a place to go. She will move into her son’s house - he apparently has another option.
Rachael is working three days a week for a local nonprofit. The rest of the time she confesses she's been sleeping, watching CNN and eating. Nothing like making it all worse by fattening yourself up while you're down.
She said it's like there's a "magnet on her house", she's afraid to leave it. She panics and has to rush home to her dogs.
Me too!!
The only thing that got me up in the morning was the need to feed the dogs and take them outside. I told her this last depression was one of the worst I've ever been through. But with work comes joy (and groceries). With yoga comes strength and peace. With NPR comes the sense that we’re NOT alone in all this.
I've been forcing myself to reach out and make new friends. Friday I went out with a nice man. We talked for three hours. I was the first date he's had in 16 years, he was terrified; but I joked him out of it and we had a nice time.
I suggested meeting at the Lighthouse Tiki Bar, but that's where he caught his wife with the other man. He took her back after a time and tried to do the right thing; of course it bit him on the ass and he lost most of what he had.
We met at the Paradise Tiki Bar in Cape Coral instead. They've cleaned that place up! (I used to go there with Randy, his house is just two canals away.)
Anyway, this other guy is spiritual and believes in past lives. We had great conversation but the band was too loud. There will be more to talk about in some other place.
And then last night (look at me, like I have balls or something) I drove to Naples to watch the fireworks with someone I met online.
He had three bottles of wine waiting for us on the table (red flag) along with wasabi crackers and gourmet dips. He invited me to spend the night before we met but I told him I have to get back to my dogs.
I am well aware of the "you've had too much to drink" line. That was not about to happen. What DID happen is he talked too much and tried too hard. It made me very, very nervous.
Then we walked around town and I got to see how the rich people are still living. He’s one, but he doesn’t act like it. Thank God.
We walked past mansions. One was for sale and he pulled the real estate sheet; the price had “dropped” to about 3+ million.
He said these homes were on a lake. We walked around to a small deck-like “outlook” where you can see "the whole thing".
It’s a pond.
He said he remembers when it was surrounded by modest cottages. Now you can't see it from the sidewalk. Mansions surround it shoulder to shoulder, like a pride of lions feeding on a chipmunk.
I said for that much money, you could find something on the gulf. He laughed and said not even close. He said in this neighborhood, “Sanibel is the cheap seats.” He told me most of the homes are owned by people who own homes all over the world; they rarely stay there.
We walked to town a flew blocks away. Locals and tourists were out in force, waiting for the fireworks. In the restaurants people were drinking expensive wines with $60 dinners.
On the streets beautifully dressed people walked BEAUTIFULLY groomed dogs.
He asked what style I choose for my dogs. I said “I do them myself.” My girls can endure the humiliation of mom’s scissor cuts if it saves me $90/month with tip!
We had champagne cocktails in one exceptionally beautiful bar; later we ate gyros streetside. He'd never had one, I helped him with his pronunciation.
It was very hot, I was melting when we heard the boom of fireworks down by the pier. As we walked towards the sights and sounds, he kept touching my arm, telling me how cool I felt. (???)
He was right. (Remembering when the ex-bf said I’m so good with the heat I should move to Nicaragua. Pinch me - maybe I'm dead already?!)
My skin IS cool to the touch in extreme heat, how weird is that? But my scalp was raining sweat to my eyebrows.
We walked a lot, like he was judging my health. I joked that I could kick his ass. I have no doubt I could. He breathlessly stopped at some corners to "let you rest".
His parents are gone and he has no children. He said "nobody cares whether I live or die." (Gasp.)
Being with him made me feel really old. I think because he FEELS old, or maybe it was his sad rubbing off. He's not worth as many millions as he once was. “I should have sold four years ago, when I had a chance.”
By 10 I was bored out of my mind and on the verge of a panic attack. I'm still getting those for some reason. I guess big stress doesn't go away easily, it LINGERS.
People of all sizes, colors and lifestyles had jammed into the small downtown area to see the fireworks; now everyone wanted out. Going home meant a descent into crushing traffic, but sitting in traffic is better than feeling awkward and struggling for things to say.
Mile by mile, my shoulders gradually started easing down off my ear lobes.
This morning I sent him a thank you note. I'm not turning my nose up at friendships any more.
Today I'm cleaning. Organizing. Getting it all back together.
Then I'm meeting Rachael at a fish joint on the Caloosahatchee. It will be good to share the shit with someone who’s neck deep. She said it’s so good to “talk about this with someone who understands.”
She called a few weeks back when I was in utter despair, too depressed to answer the phone; she didn’t leave a message. I had to compose myself before I could compose a quick email ... I think I asked if she was OK. It was weird to hear from her after all these months.
She wrote back something uncharacteristically snotty like “yeah, WHY?”
During the depths I got paranoid and started assuming everyone I cared for no longer cared for me.
Today Rachael called again; this time I was ok to answer. She's as low as I've been. We both babbled like schoolgirls, sharing and confessing - two baby boomers in similar boats.
She told me she has a friend who wakes up every morning and thinks "FUCK - I'm still alive." It was shocking to hear someone say that out loud. I was thinking the same thing. The only comforting aspect of not having health insurance is knowing you don’t have to worry about treatment options if you get sick. You can just GO*.
But that’s not what I was worried about. In recent weeks I was freaked wondering how I would live and WHERE I would live if I couldn’t support myself. My son's place is too small and his life full of responsibilities. I have no doubt my mom and stepdad would say no if I asked to stay with them. My step-dad would say "if we do it for her, we have to do it for the grandkids". While my one stepbrother is in a supportive relationship, his sons live deeply troubled lives.
My folks live in a giant house on 80 acres. They have room in their house, but not in their hearts. I'm sure if my step-dad dies, it would be a different story for me. Or if something happens to my mom's health. But then that place would kill us both. In the Lake Superior area, the snow gets waist deep with temps so low it’s dangerous to leave the house. It was a dismal realization, to know that in a worst case scenario, I have nowhere to go.
Rachael is in that same place, too old for anyone to want her and too young for Social Security. Her house is in foreclosure. In hurricane season with no home insurance, she has stored the furniture and kept only her bed and TV.
When we talk on the phone, her voice echoes across the deep red Spanish tiles where her baby grand once stood.
On the bright side, foreclosures take a while and she probably has three months left. Then she worked out a place to go. She will move into her son’s house - he apparently has another option.
Rachael is working three days a week for a local nonprofit. The rest of the time she confesses she's been sleeping, watching CNN and eating. Nothing like making it all worse by fattening yourself up while you're down.
She said it's like there's a "magnet on her house", she's afraid to leave it. She panics and has to rush home to her dogs.
Me too!!
The only thing that got me up in the morning was the need to feed the dogs and take them outside. I told her this last depression was one of the worst I've ever been through. But with work comes joy (and groceries). With yoga comes strength and peace. With NPR comes the sense that we’re NOT alone in all this.
I've been forcing myself to reach out and make new friends. Friday I went out with a nice man. We talked for three hours. I was the first date he's had in 16 years, he was terrified; but I joked him out of it and we had a nice time.
I suggested meeting at the Lighthouse Tiki Bar, but that's where he caught his wife with the other man. He took her back after a time and tried to do the right thing; of course it bit him on the ass and he lost most of what he had.
We met at the Paradise Tiki Bar in Cape Coral instead. They've cleaned that place up! (I used to go there with Randy, his house is just two canals away.)
Anyway, this other guy is spiritual and believes in past lives. We had great conversation but the band was too loud. There will be more to talk about in some other place.
And then last night (look at me, like I have balls or something) I drove to Naples to watch the fireworks with someone I met online.
He had three bottles of wine waiting for us on the table (red flag) along with wasabi crackers and gourmet dips. He invited me to spend the night before we met but I told him I have to get back to my dogs.
I am well aware of the "you've had too much to drink" line. That was not about to happen. What DID happen is he talked too much and tried too hard. It made me very, very nervous.
Then we walked around town and I got to see how the rich people are still living. He’s one, but he doesn’t act like it. Thank God.
We walked past mansions. One was for sale and he pulled the real estate sheet; the price had “dropped” to about 3+ million.
He said these homes were on a lake. We walked around to a small deck-like “outlook” where you can see "the whole thing".
It’s a pond.
He said he remembers when it was surrounded by modest cottages. Now you can't see it from the sidewalk. Mansions surround it shoulder to shoulder, like a pride of lions feeding on a chipmunk.
I said for that much money, you could find something on the gulf. He laughed and said not even close. He said in this neighborhood, “Sanibel is the cheap seats.” He told me most of the homes are owned by people who own homes all over the world; they rarely stay there.
We walked to town a flew blocks away. Locals and tourists were out in force, waiting for the fireworks. In the restaurants people were drinking expensive wines with $60 dinners.
On the streets beautifully dressed people walked BEAUTIFULLY groomed dogs.
He asked what style I choose for my dogs. I said “I do them myself.” My girls can endure the humiliation of mom’s scissor cuts if it saves me $90/month with tip!
We had champagne cocktails in one exceptionally beautiful bar; later we ate gyros streetside. He'd never had one, I helped him with his pronunciation.
It was very hot, I was melting when we heard the boom of fireworks down by the pier. As we walked towards the sights and sounds, he kept touching my arm, telling me how cool I felt. (???)
He was right. (Remembering when the ex-bf said I’m so good with the heat I should move to Nicaragua. Pinch me - maybe I'm dead already?!)
My skin IS cool to the touch in extreme heat, how weird is that? But my scalp was raining sweat to my eyebrows.
We walked a lot, like he was judging my health. I joked that I could kick his ass. I have no doubt I could. He breathlessly stopped at some corners to "let you rest".
His parents are gone and he has no children. He said "nobody cares whether I live or die." (Gasp.)
Being with him made me feel really old. I think because he FEELS old, or maybe it was his sad rubbing off. He's not worth as many millions as he once was. “I should have sold four years ago, when I had a chance.”
By 10 I was bored out of my mind and on the verge of a panic attack. I'm still getting those for some reason. I guess big stress doesn't go away easily, it LINGERS.
People of all sizes, colors and lifestyles had jammed into the small downtown area to see the fireworks; now everyone wanted out. Going home meant a descent into crushing traffic, but sitting in traffic is better than feeling awkward and struggling for things to say.
Mile by mile, my shoulders gradually started easing down off my ear lobes.
This morning I sent him a thank you note. I'm not turning my nose up at friendships any more.
Today I'm cleaning. Organizing. Getting it all back together.
Then I'm meeting Rachael at a fish joint on the Caloosahatchee. It will be good to share the shit with someone who’s neck deep. She said it’s so good to “talk about this with someone who understands.”
Absolutely. I think there are more people engaged in the struggle for survival than she can IMAGINE. I should buy groceries today, but I’ll settle for a shock top, a seafood appetizer and GREAT conversation instead.
(GRATEFUL FOR: getting back in touch with an old friend.)
*That's the thing about Buddhism. Death is just part of the cycle - life/death/rebirth - repeat. If you really believe, it's not such a big deal.
(GRATEFUL FOR: getting back in touch with an old friend.)
*That's the thing about Buddhism. Death is just part of the cycle - life/death/rebirth - repeat. If you really believe, it's not such a big deal.
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