Some of you were privileged to witness Rachel’s melt down yesterday. I had a finely honed depression raging in all its twisted glory. Not to be denied, I was able to withstand the best efforts of my therapist as well as a group therapy session with a trans feminine group of sensitive caring people. It was the latest in a three week slide into depression. My complaint that I have not felt like my efforts to be a friend have been returned are only partially true and as is true with depression partially manufactured by my mind.
Resisting all rational efforts I was set on several more hours of misery. What can be counted on to fuel my despair? That would be alcohol naturally. Stopping at my favorite bar I sat apart, ordered a drink and waited for I’m not sure what, although I suspect it was probably proof positive that I am as unlovable as I think I am.
What happened instead was that a young man I had met and spoken to previously came over and sat down next to me. He struck up a conversation, apologizing for having been rude the last time we met. He explained that he had been having a very bad day and that he had had too much to drink.

I assured him that he hadn’t been rude and I expanded on the very bad day theme, explaining my current dark mood. We had a very pleasant conversation, he was attentive and sympathetic and it was so nice to be treated as a real person and as a woman I might add.

Later with my depression only semi intact a friend called me as I lay in bed, she has been abused by her husband and is struggling with what to do. Nothing like a friend in deep shit to make one feel like their own petty complaints are insignificant. The words of self-care I shared sounded strangely familiar as I tried to help her through her latest crisis. I did determine that I am so much better at giving advice than I am at taking it.

I awoke this morning and it took a supreme effort not to be in a good mood. I am depressed after all, how could I garner any sympathy at all if I go through the day with a great big smile on my face.
I managed to keep my misery intact through the first hour of work but then my 9:00 AM appointment showed up. Damn it, doesn’t he know how tough it is to maintain this depressing composure?
What a nice guy. what? where did that come from?
I’m depressed.

Then the following conversation interspersed with slight out of body experiences took place

What’s that you say, you own a farm. I went to college for agriculture.
flash back to farm, school and another life. Discussion of the beauty of living a life a little more in touch with the real world and the Earth. Strangely compelling.
I spent a few moments day dreaming when he offered the chance to intern on the farm, really work with animals on a farm WTF?
I heard you just say you do a little bit of wood working but always wished you had a work shop,

Out comes Rachel’s phone, picture sharing ensues, this is my old workshop, these are some of the small boxes and pieces I’ve made.

Did I mention that the workshop in the pictures is in a storage unit that I have to pay for every month?
Really, you have a building your going to turn into a workshop, I could set my tools up there for free and use them any time. You want to learn woodworking from me?
What the f…. is going on

Yes I’ll keep your number, yes I can see that your serious.

What did you just say? That the Universe gives us what we need when we need it.

Yes your wife is a very smart woman and yes that is most definitely a valuable lesson.

I’m home now, rolling over in my mind what has happened this day.

Oh great, now I’m crying. I just don’t understand.
I don’t deserve this my mind screams.
Can somebody please help me understand
What am I supposed to do,
What am I supposed to learn from this
Does this change anything? or does it simply dazzle me with distraction.
If I wasn’t busy being depressed I would have to conclude that my life is awesome and that the Universe actually wants me to be happy.
Now that’s really depressing!

To be continued….I’m sure