548 Damp Words on Moods, Indecision, and Dysthymia

15 Jun

Dysthymia – A word I can’t pronounce

The sky opens and finally hands us something to work with: a summer storm. (I get bored with the sun.) Ainsley decides to herd the various balls from the yard, so she pulls on her raincoat and water shoes. And then: “Daddy! The cushions!” I put on my raincoat and we run out and drag the chair cushions, already soaked, into the garage. (I don’t care about the cushions or balls; all I want is to share this experience with her.)

I say “Let’s run out to the road and back!” She says “You first!” I take off and she’s right there with me. The rain is heavy and maybe laughing at our wimpy coats. We’re soaked. Then we stand with the back door open and try to coax the dogs out because we know they’ll be like “Are you friggin’ nuts? We’re not goin’ out in this.” They back away slowly.

Inside, I suggest we do this in every summer rain and she’s all for it.

All the wind and rain and motion has jerked us awake. We shed our dripping coats. We laugh and jump on the furniture and then watch the downpour with our elbows on the back of the couch, our hands on our chins. The dogs have caught the buzz and are zipping through the house, ears bouncing. Dexter finds a long-lost rawhide. The cats’ tails are puffy with excitement.

If only life were like this more often.

Alas, reality returns in a hurry. Ainsley slides a movie into the PS3 and plops on the couch. I wander downstairs. The dogs fall asleep and snore. The cats disappear. Things begin to feel wrong. Before the rain my coffee tasted funny; now it tastes funny and it’s cold. I find a clump of cat fur on my desk.

Life is a fight to reach and maintain a certain state of mind, a better than average mood. Life is peppered with highs, lows, and endless “middles.” Some people, people like me, have to fight harder to stay in the middle. Below average is no place to hover on the happiness scale.

My attention is divided and I feel frozen. I feel sad about nothing particular. The rain has moved on, but the clouds remain, at least in here. Dreary. I’m distracted by the internet. I keep turning to Google News to find good articles to read later on the Kindle. At the same time, I’m browsing eyeglasses after opening an e-mail from eyebuydirect. I don’t need glasses. I have work to do, words to write, kids to engage, to feed. Errands to run. If only I could focus on … something, anything. It overwhelms me and makes me want to sleep … just for an hour.

And my basement space is set up for naps, for times like these. I have a blow-up bed leaning against a wall for longer slumbers. I have a folded, cushioned mat for quick floor naps. And I have an anti-gravity recliner that folds up into nothing. So this isn’t just an office; it’s an exercise-meditation-office-yoga-nap center.

I really am going to nap now. (I’m leaning towards the recliner.) For the next hour I won’t feel like I’m being pulled apart by all that needs done.

One Response to “548 Damp Words on Moods, Indecision, and Dysthymia”

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