Depressed

They just pop into my head.  My last post, "Skinny Legs" came to me while I was shaving my legs yesterday in the shower.  I usually get just the title and I have to come up with the rest, which is no easy task for me.  Each story takes approximately six to eight hours to write and then revise, revise, revise.  The shower is not the best place to be inspired; it couldn't be further from pencil and paper, and my computer doesn't care for water.   So most of the time, the shower stories fall victim to my failing short-term memory.

Depressed.  That was the title in today's shower.  It's popped up before many times, but I've ignored it.  How can I write a lightweight, humorous story about depression?  What's so funny about that?  We need to keep it positive, right?  Thanks.  I thought you would agree.

My friend Margaret thinks I'm depressed.  "I think you're depressed," she said on my last trip to Indianapolis.  As I sat across from her at my favorite restaurant, Harold's Steer-In,  I couldn't believe she thought I was, you know, the "D" word.  I told  her she was wrong, all wrong.  No way.  Not possible.  Not me.  It's imperative that I have 100% control of my emotions at all times.  It defines who I am.  Depression does not fit anywhere in my life, I desperately wanted to say, but I couldn't stop crying long enough to get the words out.

I woke up that cold, gray morning crying, and when she called to see if I wanted to go to breakfast, I tried but failed to keep the sobs under control.  Instantly, my day planner for Saturday, January 12, 2013, was full.  If I thought I was going to go back to bed,  I was mistaken.  There were thrift, consignment, and antique shops I needed to see, she said.  And there was a great little cafe where we could have lunch and talk.  So off we went; girlfriends, best friends, making the most of an awkward and uncomfortable day.  One wanting desperately to help, the other refusing to believe she needed it. Both hurting, but for different reasons.

So there it is...my post about depression and denial.  That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

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A married woman walks into a doctor's office and she can't stop crying.  The doctor asks, "What's wrong?"  "I'm pregnant," the woman says through her tears.  "Well, that's great news.  I know you want to have children, so why are you crying?" he asks.  "Because I don't think it's mine," she replies.

Just wanted to end this post on a positive, happy note.  We need to keep it positive, right? I thought you would agree.