On Tuesday, my oldest friend sent me an SOS email about her current depression. She said her "tried and true ways" of springing back just weren't working anymore. As I've been battling a case of the blues myself, I decided it would be a good time to take a closer look at my own "tried and trues."
I mean, we've all got them, right? The things we turn to for a reliable little jolt of happy on a sad day.
For me, it's the sky. Always the sky. Night, starry sky. Clear blue sky. Violent, stormy sky. It's always beautiful, always awe-inspiring to me.
Chocolate is good, too. Dark chocolate, or maybe crappy Hostess cupcake chocolate frosting. Or, if I'm cold or especially sad, hot chocolate. Or perhaps just a good old fashioned Hershey's with Almonds. It always feels like a treat, like something nice I'm doing for myself.
Responsibility has been a godsend these past two weeks. If I didn't have this big project to keep me focused, I may have descended into a hideous, obnoxious pity party. My coworkers would have undoubtedly strangled me, and no jury in the country would have convicted them. Also, being worried about my oldest friend helped. Took me out of myself a bit.
Paul McCartney. Paulie. Sir Paul. Macca. Whether it's Beatle Paul ("And I Love Her" is on right now) or Wings Paul or solo Paul, he's been the soundtrack of my life. I've loved him unquestioningly since I was 6 years old. His voice, his face, they've become as comforting as a letter from home.
The Cubs. Now don't laugh. Yes, they break my heart on a regular basis. But it's the fact of the Cubs, of Wrigley Field, that I love. The tradition. The continuity. And all the little distracting dramas! How will Kerry Wood do in the bullpen? Will Soriano be the piece of the puzzle we've been missing? I love this rite of spring like no other.
The cats. I have three, each with a distinct personality and a unique way of relating to me, which always amuses and fascinates. Charlotte, my Miss Thing, demands her time with me in the morning. Specifically after my shower, when I am putting moisturizer and makeup on. Her attention to my ritual is always rapt. Does she realize she's a female, and is that why she insists on sharing this girly activity? Joe is my affectionate old tom. He hates it when I leave him. When I put on my coat or grab my purse, he does figure 8's between my legs, trying to convince me to stay. Or maybe he's marking me with his scent, so no other big old toms try to claim me as their human. And Reynaldo, the kid. My skinny beige bundle of energy. He races about yowling at me, and won't stop his loud singing until I answer. I wonder what my neighbors think as they walk up the hall and hear me answering his noisy "meeeooows" with, "Rey, you're so brave, up there on top of the bookcase!"
Just thinking of this stuff makes me happy. Whatever it is that you have that yanks you out of the doldrums, I hope you treasure it and that it never fails you.
