As always, I reviewed what I had done that day that might have brought it on. I hadn't been depressed in, like, 10 years.
First thot was that Diabetes and insulin use often causes depression. My friend, the late Bill Cardinale, was on insulin for decades when depression hit. An antidepressant helped him but took ages to kick in.
I sat there thinking, So soon? So soon for me?
Then I remembered I did couples counseling earlier that day. A therapist knows that when a couple comes in it's gonna be a sad and frustrating situation. Could it have gotten to me?
I must confess that whenever I see on the right of this blog that Ruth Deming is accepting new clients I jump.
Me, a therapist? Really? Who am I to posture that I know how to counsel individuals?
Oh, she certainly knows what she's doing, laffs the wife I counseled. Her husband nods enthusiastically.
Actually, dear reader, I am quite good. (Except when I'm not.) I did well by them. We came up with a compromise plan. You'll grant him this and he'll grant you this. IF they'll do it!
So as I sat on the couch preparing to inject my insulin, I thot, Well, I'm certainly gonna get help for my depression if it lingers. It was now about 60 seconds long.
I went thru all the antidepressants in my mind. When I had bipolar d/o I never took an antidepressant, only a mood stabilizer (lithium) and an antipsychotic when I went off my rocker (Haldol, Risperdal or Navane).
To summon those boys again - as I just did - is not a happy thought.
Hey, maybe it's this music that's making me depressed. I was listening to the blues: Mississippi Fred MacDowell. The poor man's heart was breaking and he was communicating those feelings directly into my pore heart.
I was too lazy to turn him off.
And then I decided to work on a new poem - Drowning Ants - for Poetry Night on Friday nite.
By the time I fell exhausted into bed, I had forgotten all about my depression.
DROWNING ANTS
where there is one
there are many.
my robust soldier saunters
across the counter with
muscled torso
Caesar entering the forum
victorious!
who daresay you lack nobility
scouting for provisions
a walking slip of shiny
licorice far from home.
your countless pals await you,
brave soldier,
a short but purposeful life:
To die for the Republic.
i squeeze you between my fingertips
Know that your assassin cringes
- et tu, poetess? -
i place you struggling in a
plastic Starbucks coffee cup
and run you
out the front door
you have already waggled up
the side and over
- your loyalty immense -
i take no pleasure in
pouring you into the
birdbath
and flee back inside:
guilty as charged.
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