Muddling through...

You know those people who have something positive to say, no matter how shitty you feel your (or their) life is going?  In the world of internet life sharing (via Facebook, Myspace, et al) we are all treated to their terminal silver lining, even in the darkest of circumstances.  In fact, they now have a forum in which to spread their cheer like the common cold, infecting everyone they come into contact with, or their friends come into contact with, or their friend's friends, and so on and so on... 


Bless their hearts, and all that, but sometimes?  Don't you just want to WALLOW and feel bad without some Suzie Creamcheese pointing out the bright side?  Yes, I KNOW it could be worse, but right here, right now, I FEEL BAD.  I want to hear, "Dayum, girl... that sucks!"  Or, "Wow... hope you live through that!"  Or even, "Well, on the plus side, you have a legitimate reason to lie around the house in your sweats eating cookies and crying.  Those golden opportunities don't come around that often!"  


I've been exhausted from my depression lately.  It has overwhelmed me, made me tired, made my body hurt, my brain hurt, my heart hurt... It takes a ridiculous amount of effort each day to drag my ass out of bed, take a shower, get dressed, do my hair, pick up the house, take the dogs for a walk, do the things that need to be done... And basically, I'm doing it because a) I hate feeling this awful and I keep hoping that if I pretend everything in my world is peachy-keen, I'll fool myself into believing it really is (because in my head, apparently I'm that gullible) and b) because I've been brain-washed for the past 48 years into thinking that somewhere, someone, has it way worse than I do, therefore I have no good reason to feel sorry for myself.  The "Suck it up, Nancy!" attitude that got my ancestors through trials, tribulations, and horrific tragedy with the strength and grace that I so admire has been drilled into me throughout my life and I honestly feel guilty for ever having the GALL to feel like it's okay for me to not be happy.


When my boys were very small, my husband had to move 400 miles away from us to begin a job in a new town, leaving me home with three babies, ages 9 months, 2 yrs, and 3 yrs.  I had to pack up our house, take care of the kids, take care of the bills, make all the arrangements, fly to the new town, find us a place to live in 2 days, fly back, and move, all by myself.  Needless to say, I was stressed, tired, exhausted, and somewhat overwhelmed.  My mother had called to talk, and after I was done crying and complaining about how difficult all this was she said, "Well, my friend knows a woman who has triplets, all babies.  Her husband quit his job and left her with no money, no child support, and having to find a way to support herself and her kids.  Be grateful you're not her."


Alrighty then.  I was very grateful I wasn't her.  But really, why did that mean that MY situation wasn't hard, too?  


Because my ancestors were made of tougher stuff than that, dammit!


So I sucked it up, quit complaining, and lived through it all, proving once again that my mother was right and life goes on.


Years ago, I had a t-shirt that said, "Perky people piss me off."  Well, they kind of do... and actually, about 90% of the time, I'M one of those annoying perky people.  (Thanks, mom...)  I hear myself chirping out sunshine and roses, spreading cheer amongst the weak and the weary, offering platitudes and wry witticisms to all and sundry who dare share their misfortune with me.


I kinda wish I'd knock that off.


Anyway, I started out with a point that I seem to have lost, so I will end with this:  One of my favorite quotes is, "What doesn't kill you makes you funnier."  (I wish I could take the credit for that one, but someone else said it, damn them.)  


So I'm going to reach for that silver lining and say, "Thank you, life, for making me so friggin' funny... I couldn't have done it without you!"