After The Party’s Over

Last weekend, I attended celebrations in honor of the 35th anniversary of my graduation from high school.  I didn’t plan on attending, but at the last minute, I was able to.  I got very excited, and I enjoyed myself thoroughly.  But since then, I find myself back in sad discomfort, and all I have done during my free time is sleep.  Sleep, whether too much or too little, is a big indicator of depression for me — the biggest, in fact.  When I realized, this afternoon, that I took three-hour naps every day for the last three days, I knew I was saddened by the quickness of the reunion, and the let down that seems to follow so often special events like this in my life.

I know I’m not that tired.  The sleep arises from my position smack in the middle of depression.  I thought I was past this kind of reaction, but apparently, I am not.  My question was, and is, how can something I so enjoyed leave me so devastated?

This is a very easily-answered question.   Let down.  But I knew as I planned for the weekend that it would soon be over.  Though I reconnected with many who live close by, I could only remember the weekend was over.  My pictures didn’t turn out, and I was exhausted long before the party was over.  But while I was there, I felt eighteen again, seeing all those familiar faces and catching up with old friends.  As a result, when all the celebrating was done, I felt cheated, somehow, though I knew long before the event that members of my class were gathering to plan.  I could have attended those meetings, and spent that extra time with some of my old friends.  I did not.

I would love to be able to blame this low feeling on snooty classmates, as I did when I was in high school, but that’s a lie.  Everyone was friendly and welcoming, and genuinely happy to see me.

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I began writing this post on Thursday, but I left off until today.  It’s Friday morning, a little after eleven o’clock.  I woke this morning at 6:30, which is about normal for me on a non-work day.  I tested my blood sugar, used the bathroom, and went back into my room.  I set my alarm for 7:30, and fell asleep. When the alarm went off, I sat up and turned it off; I looked out the window to see a lovely, sunny morning, and then I fell back into bed and back to sleep.  I only woke and got out of bed at 10:30.

My philosophy, of the last two years and a little more, is to take myself in hand, when I feel sad, and to find something to be happy about.    I believe, and have proved to myself many times, that seeing one thing that makes me feel good focuses me on positive thinking, no matter how small that item or situation may be.  That is my intention for today.  But when I feel like this, I find it harder and harder to see that one thing, and I am reduced to the most basic daily task — so I am going to brush my teeth.

Knowing why I feel this way won’t do me any good, but as in this post, that is the first question I always ask.  Why, why, why?  Why will not help me revive my spirit.  The time is here to concentrate on How?, and brushing my teeth has often been my first answer to How.  If I don’t write, or comment, or read posts for a couple of days, I will be rebuilding, once again, the happiness in which I prefer to live.  So I’ll be back on the other side in a couple of days.  Thanks for understanding.

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