Lost Weekend

While I haven't been battling with non-existent bats or bugs in an alcoholic haze or anything that dramatic, this weekend has pretty much been a bust for me. Aside from a migraine that's just now started to concede defeat in the wake of four (FOUR) Zomig, leaving me drowsy, dopey (more so than usual), and completely lacking in motivation, I was hit by a depression that knocked me on my ass and still hasn't let me get up.

I could see it coming.

(*SPORTS METAPHOR WARNING*)

It's like getting caught in just the wrong spot the break zone when you're surfing. You see this nasty ass wave rising up in front of you. If you try to paddle over it, you'll get caught at the lip and go over the falls. You could try and dive underneath or turn and paddle like hell for shore, but it breaks right on top of you and it's one of those waves that closes out in one big WHUMP. Knocks the wind out of you, rips your board out of your hands, spins you, pounds you till you don't know up from down. You're sure you're gonna drown. Then you finally pop to the surface and WHAM, your board rebounds and hits you in the head. And oh look, that was just the first wave of a four wave set.

By the time you've finished getting worked over and have crawled back to shore, you're so disoriented and exhausted, all you can do is lie on the beach until you start to feel halfway normal.

I'm still lying on my metaphorical beach, not feeling anywhere near normal. I feel isolated, locked behind an invisible wall, distanced from everyone and everything. Why would anyone want to be around me anyway?

I don't feel like me. And I don't like the person that's currently inhabiting my body.
I've gotten no writing done other than a half-assed post. I've read two books and don't remember a thing about them. I've walked on the beach and wanted to walk out in the water, except it was too cold and I'm a wuss when it comes to temperature extremes. I feel like a fake, like I'm living someone else's life, like I missed an important turn (left instead of right?) at some juncture. I feel dull, boring, unattractive. I want to curl up in bed with my cats and stay there. They'd love it. So at least I'd be making someone happy. And their purrs are very soothing. Except I wish that Beezle would not get these sudden urges to head butt me when I'm sleeping. For a little cat, he has a very hard head.

Did I mention that Zomig is a depressant? It ain't helping. I've made myself hang up clothes and get a few things done, but the self-loathing that comes with feeling like I've wasted two days is creating a very annoying bout of circular thinking. Self-loathing, angry thoughts. I mean, look at the headlines. We might be on the verge of a major war (I'm so sick of militaristic bully boys), the death toll in Iraq climbs every day, earthquakes, floods, global warming... What the hell do my problems matter in the face of all this? And yet, how do we go about our day to day lives if we DON'T deal with our problems?

I am going to try and dig out old Army of Darkness photos so that I can keep my promise to Malnurtured Snay at some point this week. I'll just wait till I'm a little peppier in mood to write about it. Otherwise it'll be Army of Darkness as seen through the eyes of Dana Allen Poe. And in the meantime, I'm gonna go find a cat to hold.