Forever is composed of nows

New blog here.

a depressed person trying to find some positive things.
An ongoing exercise
to link all 64 rectangles to things meaningful to me. A self-portrait of

1-11-21-31-41-51-61-71-8
2-1
3-1
4-1
5-1
6-1
7-1
8-1
Forever — is composed of Nows —
‘Tis not a different time —
Except for Infiniteness —
And Latitude of Home —

From this — experienced Here —
Remove the Dates — to These —
Let Months dissolve in further Months —
And Years — exhale in Years —

Without Debate — or Pause —
Or Celebrated Days —
No different Our Years would be
From Anno Domini’s—

~Emily Dickinson

2-8
3-8
4-8
5-8
6-8
7-8
8-8

31 May 2009
Last week, my husband asked me to drive with him to the other side of Jackson to pick up his work truck—obviously he couldn’t drive both the truck and the car back home. But it was five o’clock before we left on this two hour trip—dinner-time, and I’d spent the day just staring into space (or at the computer {same thing?}) and I didn’t get motivated to think of something to cook. I was childishly self-centered about having to do this inconvenient errand; needless to say, the trip did not start out well. But it was a beautiful warm and sunny late afternoon drive, out into a more rural part of Michigan. Live bright green foliage, shadows, light, hills, a nice new car, blue sky…well, you get the picture…and I soon got over my “mad(ness).”
(I’m not sure, but this depression-thing seems to be making me even more self-centered and angry than usual. Or am I just using it as an excuse, and I’m always that way?)
At any rate, I calmed down and began to think about this poem. And about how fast we were traveling, seeing only the general view of where we were. I could see the landscape, but nothing specific to the time or place. We’ve driven this route many times when our daughter lived in Chicago a few years ago. I remember one trip shortly after a big ice storm when the trees, broken and half fallen to earth, but still brilliant and sparkling in morning sunlight… Very different from what I was seeing last week.
I began to think about M.C. Escher’s drawings/lithographs and how details can trick the eye, how a point of view can trick one’s perception of how or what things are.
I began to consider how to express that idea. Or to be more blunt, how I could apply this idea to myself. (see, back to being self-centered?). Unfortunately, I’m not a brilliant artist, but this is my blog (“It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to”) so I’m still planning to be working on this post.

well, and on myself, too.
By the way, that black line across the top of tihs post is not the newspaper tradition of putting a black line on top of the front-page to indicate mourning for some famous assasinated person or president…
It’s an exercise of “Pollyanna”-me. with links to positive things.

2 June 2009
We eventually left the expressway, slowing down considerably. We even left paved roads; the fellow who had the truck lives outside of town, surrounded by farm fields. We were traveling very slowly. I was lost in my head, but my husband was looking at the fields when he suddenly cried out, “Look!! Over there! Cranes!” This is something he often says, usually as we are passing a construction site, so it took me a moment to realize that there were three sandhill cranes, standing in the empty field! Then we were past them. It was a good thing we missed the driveway, because I had a second better look at the birds: two large cranes, one small and not at all disturbed by our presence. A photo missed, but a moment experienced. There is a crane sanctuary near Jackson, but the cranes are far away and people come with telescopes (and cameras) to see them.

3 June 2009

It’s interesting how it’s often easier to talk to strangers than to people you know and love. I’m talking to strangers by writing this post, but really I’m talking to myself.
(Yes, I know the old joke that if you do that it’s a sign that you are crazy———but only if you answer.)
I’ve tried to keep diaries or journals, but have always destroyed them because they seemed self-conscious and stilted because my audience was only me. I could lie and only I would know.
So, talking to strangers:
(and setting my thoughts straight)
This depression is different from what I’ve experienced in the past. I don’t feel sad or hopeless: I don’t feel anything. I was sleeping and eating (or not eating) at odd hours, but because I made it to work I thought I was fine. I was feeling nothing, except for suddenly realizing I’m crying, or freezing in panic that I can’t do anything right, or about to scream in rage—and for no reason. And yes, depression is a disease which feeds on itself.
You get I had a dialogue going in your my mind and soon your my perception was skewed.
It drains your my energy, you are I am seduced by safe lethargy.
You deceive yourself. I deceive myself.
(I’m useless. / I’m fine. and both are lies)
My life was falling apart. I’ve admitted to myself that I’m depressed, and I have to do something. So I started taking the meds prescribed for depression (almost 2 weeks). I have set up this little project to remember good times, good things at least once a day—after all, I can’t let my readers down. So talking to strangers will keep me honest.

A couple of thoughts:
What’s the difference between
drugs and medicines? being cured and being healed?
happy and normal? sad and normal?
a stranger and a friend you’ve never met?
The last, especially, is a genuine surprise.

.

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5 thoughts on “Forever is composed of nows

  1. We used to play a game with our daughter. The person who was “it” would pretend to be a tiny space alien who landed on something in the room (or car). The players would ask questions about what “it” could see, what sort of surface, what colors, describe what’s above, climb up and describe, and so on.

    It could get funny describing a hairbrush or a magnifying glass or a pretzel in minutia. You don’t usually look so closely at things.

  2. Then there’s William Blake’s:
    He who binds to himself a joy
    Does the winged life destroy:
    But he who kisses the joy as it flies
    Lives in eternity’s sun rise.

  3. Dear Tess,

    I know that we don’t know each other other than from our blogs here, but I just want you to know that I’ve been reading your stuggles with this depression and my heart truly goes out to you. I’ve had my own plate full for many months now. Some days it feels ok, other days it’s unbearable. Every day is lacking in the energy and vitality I used to have, and it’s so difficult to live with so much of the time! I’m sorry I’ve been so quiet lately – I don’t even post to my own blog all that much these days. I just wanted to let you know that you’re not alone in your depression. I think there are many more of us out there who feel this way, who may well just lack the energy to do much more than lurk, read and sympathize. Please don’t be too hard on yourself. I hope that the medication will continue to do you some good, and that you continue to get the loving support of your husband. He sounds like a wonderful guy! :) Please hang in there, and try not to worry too much if possible -I know it’s a lot easier said than done. I just wish you well.

    • Thank you.
      I’m sorry that you are also experiencing this trouble. And you are right that sometimes it all seems ok, but then I look closer and it’s back to “what’s the point of anything.” I hope you are getting help for yourself. My husband is a rock, and I’d be lost without him, but ultimately each of us is alone and we each must find our own way. Even so, it’s very good to know that other people have gone this way as well. I wish there was some wisdom to share with you, but all I can say is to just keep going.

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