Big Black Wave In The Middle Of The Sea

I felt it after it had hit me; the first wave of depression. I was tired and losing a battle to a cold when I started to go into a bit of panic mode.

The neighbors were having a birthday party for their 1 year old, born a scant month before Kickers. There was stress of trying to keep a very curious infant out of someone else’s expensive things, then add to that the birthday boy himself in a fit of yanking and hair pulling. Then add the grandfather’s continual bellowing to the children, in a stage worthy Long Island accent, as if they were deaf; or foreign language speaking visitors from another continent. Then add a large number of people in a one bedroom apartment. All of these things were putting me out of sorts.

Then add the feeling that all of the guests were young and professional types who seemed to be very into appearances and things they owned. Admittedly, I’m being very unfair here, I did not get the chance to actually know any of them or talk past a brief introduction, but it was a feeling that was coming to me in waves; it was the high heels and expensive clothing worn to a birthday party for an infant. Added to the almost claustrophobic feelings I was already having, well something was going to have to give.

Even the one obviously bored guy in a sweatshirt was solely focused on the football game playing on the mammoth flat screen TV. When it became obvious that Riley needed a nap, I gladly retreated; shaking.

I made the mistake of turning on the TV while I rocked Kickers to sleep. The flood of pill commercials, the sad celebrities clinging so desperately to some sort of fame, the dead smiles of the news anchors while they let me know of travesty after travesty, the constant buzzing of voices telling me to buy, buy, buy… Somehow the cynicism shield had broken and I was left to internalize it all, bad spoonfuls of everything wrong with the world. I began to have this sick and panicky feeling, a tired certainty that we’re not going to make it out alive, a weariness at having to protect my child somehow.

And then it made sense. It’s that same sort of breathless maladjustment you get when you’re depressed. It didn’t make any the problems better, but at least there was a feasible goal to work on before trying to fix the world. I realize there has to be those bits of depression, I truly feel it’s an important piece in our experience, a fantastic learning tool, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to try and fight it, try and elevate myself.

Trying to remember the altogether different breathless feeling that came with standing at 1st and Pine Friday night, cold as cold, and watching the last couple minutes of passionate red sunset over the Olympics, Puget Sound not quite ready to let the daylight out of the water, a lone flashing buoy in all that nearly glowing midnight blue. And then I turn around to walk home up the hill with a full moon painting the rooftops silver.

Trying to hold onto the feelings of a hug from an 11 month old and that hum of “Mmmmm” that accompanies it, how absolutely glorious it feels to have a baby asleep on you.

Trying not to take it all too damn seriously.


Rocktober song of the day: “Raw Power” by Iggy and the Stooges. You better believe it.