You might think that slipping out in the middle of the afternoon to see a movie would be a nice tonic for mild depression, but not if that movie is Silver Linings Playbook, and you’re both dealing with and recovering from mental illness in your loved ones. My friend leaned over early on and said we could leave whenever I wanted. I held out, optimistically, for another hour. Then I suggested we split. I just don’t find mental illness to be entertaining these days, and why was I exposing myself to all that yelling? She’s dealing with her own caretaking of mental illness, so she leapt out of her seat as soon as I spoke up. We laughed it off and figured we’ll go to the film series next time and just rewatch a classic movie.
Things that help with mild depression–leaving a wretched movie experience and laughing about it, lots of planks (a strong core inspires confidence), cleaning the refrigerator, donning a hat over many-days unwashed hair to stock up on winter greens at the farmers market, quirky music through the earphones while shoveling snow and shoveling again, and again, bingewatching a tv series on Netflix, cooking (well-fed children are mollified children).
I think I’m coming out of the depressive funk. It’s like a cold that sends me to bed for a few days and if I give in, it passes. Compared to grief, depression is adorable, gnawing at me with my own self-doubt and lassitude. I gotta do things, whether I believe I can or not, whether I feel like getting out of bed or not. And anything I do kicks back at the depression. If my core feels strong or my shopping bag is full of winter greens, I will feel better and pop out of its cognitive loop. The imperatives of my crappy new life chase the depression away. I may not be happy, but at least I’m not depressed.
Now, where’s the vacuum?