on the down low

so, yesterday i'm mired in a pit of doom and gloom. couldn't extract myself. felt like brier rabbit in molasses. slogging through the day. trying not to offend too horribly, and not faring too well. but passing, with a maximum of grace from those who must endure me on a daily basis.

i have never felt i understood what i understand now the way i understand it. trouble is, it's a black mood that brought that understanding. trouble is, that is the only way i process. sigh.

black mood coming. beware.

so, i'm simultaneously listening to "you can be happy" by dr. carlson, because the man makes sense to me, though his happy tone irks me on days like yesterday, hell, his happier than thou tone irks me on days like today when i'm feeling functional again.

he says,

moods are not the real thing,

essentially.

they are indicators of dysfunctional thought patterns. low moods, come and go. indicators all of whack thinking (my paraphrase, incase you couldn't tell).

but the trouble is, there is no way for me to slog out of the pit when i'm stuck in it. no way to extract myself from the quicksand that gurgles and slurps me deeper in. so i stop fighting and hope, it will, as the ocean spat out sylvia plath like a cork, spit me out.

i emerged this morning, firing on all cylinders. 800 situps later (yes, can we say obssessive compulsive? at least i'm not drinking), and i'm banging out all kinds of productivity today.

but i can't get around carlson's idea that we should not linger on depressive thoughts or feelings.

i hear what he is saying. but i don't know how not to linger, how not to succumb to the blackness that permeates my life on some days.

it was snowing and beautiful out all day yesterday, i didn't get one foot out the door (probably why i tanked and couldn't pull out, at least if i force myself to the gym i can get some endorphins phlowing).

but the problem with the gym is i've had to start going in the am, the music is so damn loud, i've got my mp3 player as loud as i can stand it, and the cackling hens are still fucking with my head. they talk louder and louder. why they can't get right up close and whisper (probably the loud music), i don't know. but i've taken to singing really loud and off key when one particularly obnoxious woman stands beside me and bellows her inane blather to where i can't hear myself think.

silent gym. that is what i need.

it's so bad, i would probably not go there, just because they are so damn loud.

sound issues still, but it's a different kind of thing now.

i go to the gym for some peace of mind. i leave the gym frustrated with the volume of the bad music (think, 80s pop, horribly remade, not even the insufferable original songs, blasted at ear splitting volumes). sigh.

what is a girl to do?

it's a wonder i haven't cracked like a bad egg before.

but i'm tough. i can handle it.

i still haven't found the magic switch to flip my bad mood to a good mood. carlson's on some kind of dope i don't have access to. or, i'm misunderstanding.

i ride out the down lows, and emerge again in the light.