My car is blue, and I call her Lulu. Lulu has been having motivational problems. The engin is fine, the tires are fine, the brakes are fine, the transmission, on the other hand, is whining like a school-boy after getting his family jewels rearranged for the first time. It seemed like the perfect metaphor to depression for me. I recognize the engagement of the mind, racing and racing, going around and around in circles, having everything needed for forward motivation. Sometimes jolting forward and squealing the tires, sometimes just listlessly motoring along praying to get from point D to point E on the journey of life. Feeling like you’re never going to get to H no matter how long you try. Don’t even think about J, that’s completely out of the question. I consulted a professional and he told me t get this stuff called Lucas Slip-Stop. So, I picked up a bottle and poured it into Lulu’s transmission. And we got traction again! There was motivation without whining. I had my Lulu back.
How is this like me….Seriously, you need me to spell it out. I feel like my beat up old Chevy in so many ways, and it’s like the physical incarnation of my emotional persona. I feel every single mile of the more than 200k miles it’s carried me through, and seriously, I’m tired of carrying it around with me. (Not Lulu though, I love Lulu, that car runs on tithing blessings). Because of the weight of all the baggage, the dirt, the grim, gunk and other deteriorating factors in my life, I am weighed down, unmotivated to move forward. Enter Lexapro, the pharmaceutical equivalent of Slip-Stop. It arressted my decline and with increased use and improvement I’m able to engage better with the world. I can even contemplate navigating my own life, I think for the first time.
Like an idiot I kept fogetting to take my social meds over this week. And trust me it doesn’t take long for the seratonin to drain out like transmission fuid through a faulty seal. Stuff happens at work and I’m spinning and upset, frustrated and incapable of focusing. I was even in enough of a snit to want to quit today. I thought I progressed enough so when something so predictable happens I shouldn’t be phased by it, it’s an indication that something is low or in need of topping off. The best and most remarkable thing is that even though I’m angry and I keep having to have to take refuge in my “happy place” I’m still fundamentally, deep-down, hopefully happy. I’m a little worried that I won’t ever be able to get off these meds to be normal…or to what my semblance of normal should be…..but I know that I can and will get through it.
I’ve purhased a few new books:
Fixing depression through mindfulness
And another one I don’t knw the name of right now.
I recognize that I’m out of the darkness of the void but being firmly planted here on the bleeding edge of it is scary and I’m aware it’s going to take work, preparation and in sme cases a heroic effort not to fall back into depression’s strong, locked, comfortable ever-waiting arms.