Zhadi's Den

Random essays on wine, writing, moving to San Francisco, surfing, cats (exotic and otherwise) and zombies...depending on my mood.

Sunday, July 16, 2006

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.


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.


  • At 11:35 PM, Blogger Other Lisa said…

    Brain chemistry's a bitch.

    Exercise is a good idea. So is petting cats. I've definitely done the "reading books as anti-depressant" method as well. Was a time, before I discovered drugs and alcohol (heh!) that I would read three books in a day. Escapist behavior, that, but I didn't have a name to put on the feelings I experienced, back then.

    For me it's always come down to having some sort of creative project to work on. It doesn't always feel good, it isn't always easy, but for whatever reason the sense of accomplishment is at least as good as Prozac.

  • At 8:13 AM, Blogger zhadi said…

    Gotta get to the point in the depression where you can work on something. That's the sticky bit. I wrote one line, then put the computer away.

  • At 3:50 PM, Blogger Other Lisa said…

    There's a quote out there, something about "the tigers of regret." Meaning that few people get to a certain point in their lives without having a few of them. Aside from understanding what those tigers are, I think the other thing that's important is seeing if some of what you regret having done or not done is something that you can fix.

    Sort of like how I'd always regretted not having studied Chinese when i was there in 79 and finally realized 20 years later that I could do it now if I wanted to.

  • At 5:35 PM, Anonymous J. Branch said…

    Did a google search on "the tigers of regret" and found a link to "H. Robertson's Collection of Aphorisims"

    It's listed as Number 175 and is as follows:

    Here's what I know about regret. It's always present, even if unseen, like the moon in the day sky. The tigers of regret are patient. They can stay hidden for a long time, then pounce. Time doesn't soften all regrets. Some live even beyond the grave, inherited by the next generation. To regret is human; to be human is to regret.

    -Jenijoy LaBelle, a professor of literature at CalTech, in LA Times

    No clue who she grabbed it from, but whomever it was, they aren't on the web.

    Google Book Search attributes it to a book titled "Autobiographies," by Elizabeth Smart, Christina Burridge. Not found on Amazon or Bn.com.


    As for the topic at hand it sounds like you've stumbled into the world I've lived in for longer than I can remember. Only in my case it's more like walking against a very strong ankle deep current that might ease up every now and then but never quite ends and is always there.

    And Yeah, cat's help. I'd also suggest going out (after the migrane subsides and the zomig's out of your system), doing something that's uniquely San Franciscan (and/or possibly touristy). Then pinch yourself and thank the aether you're not living in rural bumpus like I am. :)

    If it lasts longer than a month, a low rent therapist wouldn't hurt either. Sometimes it helps to vent to someone who doesn't know you (neutral, baggage free, fresh perspective, and all that..yada yada).

  • At 11:24 PM, Blogger Malnurtured Snay said…

    Don't worry, I won't pester you about the sword tomorrow -- BRISCO COUNTY JR. on DVD!!!

  • At 10:10 AM, Blogger zhadi said…

    Tigers of regret. I like that. Gives me an idea for a horror story, to be honest. But that's how my mind works.

    If this doesn't clear up, I do have a therapist I can see. I'm just hoping to kick it out without having to go to that level.

    Ah, if only all ills were cured by bricso County Jr. on DVD...

  • At 11:49 PM, Blogger FreeThinker said…

    You want to "Kick It Out" as you say?

    Well, maybe Little Queen can help cure your ills, then?

  • At 2:46 PM, Blogger Mr. Fabulous said…

    I have been busy on a business trip, I hate that I am commenting so late on this. I hope by now you are feeling better? I know what it is like to feel this way. If there is any way that I can help, please let me know.

  • At 8:21 PM, Blogger zhadi said…

    oooh, FT. i used to sing tht song in a band back in the '80s...evil flashback!

    And Mr. Fab, I know you'vebeen busy, so don't you worry your purty little head. I'll be okay. Your concern is appreciated and I want you to do a post about chinese white slavers.

  • At 8:39 PM, Blogger Other Lisa said…

    "KICK it out!" HEE!


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