Who Moved My Arsenic?

Writing is something that has always come naturally to me. I use it as a method for relieving stress, an exercise in brainstorming, a medium whereby my thoughts can be shared and a way to pass the time. I’m proud of my ability to put pen to paper, fingertips to keyboard in order to create prose that one might actually enjoy reading. Because I believe in my writing abilities, I generally want the best of my writing. When I feel I am not in top shape I tend to shy away from environments that require text as a means of communication.

As of late, my motivation (along with grammar, spelling and punctuation) has found a nice comfy spot in the gutter. My general outlook on life has attempted to settle there as well, but I’ve done my best to prevent it. Having struggled with depression my entire life, I’ve learned a few tricks to deal with the shadows once they start to creep over me. However, I am not perfect and when I’m depressed a lot of things suffer. I shy away from opportunities to spend with friends; I am easily distracted and unlikely to produce anything truly productive. My procrastination skills shine their brightest as my drive wanes and the temptations of a warm bed and strong alcohol grow.

One of the tricks I’ve learned to cope with the suffocating effects of depression calls upon one of my greatest passions: acting. Simply pretending that I’m happy when all I want to do it sink to the bottom of my eight-foot pool will put a smile on my face, plastic though it may be. When my energy seems to have fallen so low it’s in the negatives, I run around as if I’ve just had 12 espressos. Of course, actually having twelve espressos will help with that, but I don’t really recommend it. Lastly, when I’m feeling like the fattest, most unattractive person on the planet I hop in the shower and get all dolled up, then head out to a public area. Once again, my acting comes into play. I strut my stuff like I know I’m the hottest cat in the joint and how dare anyone not turn their heads as I walk by?? Somehow, heads actually DO turn. If you know me solely from this OD, let me assure you that I’m no supermodel. I’m a regular jane (with far more added pounds than I’d like to admit to at this exact moment).

Just this morning I had one of those moments. I straightened my hair last night, but forgot to put the relaxer in and now my hair is not exactly straight and sleek. I also woke up an hour late, so I had no time to apply makeup. Needless to say, I’m not feeling like a beauty queen. As I exited our office on my way to the ladies powder room shared by the entire fifth floor, I saw a not unattractive man walking towards me. I knew that he and I would cross paths before he turned to head for the elevators and I entered into the Penguin sanctuary, so I immediately flipped the switch and popped some spring into my step. With my brightest TGIF grin, I greeted him as we approached. He gave me a quick checking out and returned my greeting with equal enthusiasm. A few additional words were exchanged and we each went on our way. Not at any point did he turn away, ignore me, hide his eyes or change his course. In fact, he was more cordial than I had expected.

I won’t lie and say that I do this every time I’m feeling down. Sometimes I’m okay spending the whole weekend in my apartment with the shades drawn and the television permanently tuned to VH1 while a carton of peanut butter cup ice cream slowly disappears. No one can run on fumes forever and I relish those days that I can spend refueling on my own terms, but I have learned that it is just as unhealthy to be over fueled.

I hope this sheds some light on my OD absence. While the fact that so many heart-felt entries have been heartlessly lost certainly plays into the situation, it is by no means the only factor. A lack of time, resources and motivation all help to keep my entries at bay. I’m still here, just lurking.