Thoughts in vignette:
Last night I dreamt that I was helping Mr. Tugboat complete an on-line form at an internet cafe. He wasn't able to submit the form and I offered to help him. I spent countless dream hours inserting and reinserting the CD that he had his information on. My Dad walked up to the computer we were at and saw me franticly trying to help Tug. I was stressed because I needed to go somewhere, maybe it was just anywhere off that computer and away from him. I left the cafe and later met up with my Dad in basement, oddly reminicent of the intersecting Lego-land basements at the house I lived in at college. My Dad told me that Tug was dating the woman at the cafe with him, who I knew from high school. He also said that Mr. Tugboat was thankful for the rainy weather because it increased his chances of getting laid because Stacey wouldn't want to drive home in the rain. I told my Dad that it made me want to punch Mr. Tugboat.
Zac has been imitating me in amazing and unbelievable ways. I was sitting on the corner of my bed, with my makeup bag in my lap, putting on makeup - foundation, eye shadow, mascara, and lipstick. Zac stood up next to me and grabbed each item of makeup as I dropped it into my bag. Instead of taking the small piece of foam out of the complicated compact case, he rubbed the entire compact around his smiling cheeks and forehead. The mascara tube was dutifully seized and applied, unopened, to his small eyelashes, while I tried not to laugh. He twisted the lipstick tube over and over, trying to get it open. When he couldn't, and when I eventually took the lipstick away from him to avoid a laundry-catastrophe, he fell onto the floor in a fit of dismay and began crying. I think he wanted the full Mauve Colorstay Lipglide experience. I love him for that.
Depression, by definition, causes people to withdraw into themselves. Even the most outgoing of individuals will seem shut-off and unable to access the love and support around them. I'm essentially an extremely honest, blunt introvert by nature. Even under the best circumstances, I will feel awkward in a social setting and will do better talking to someone one rather than in a group. When I'm dealing with depression, writing on this blog is an act of will. It forces me to continually reevaluate where I am emotionally and what I want to share. There are many days when I just want to write, "AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH" then silence.
My friend in East Texas will think twice before inviting a toddler up to her apartment again. She's in graduate school in a rural town about 3 hours north of Houston. After an evening of whole milk and fabulous Tex-Mex food, Zac threw up all over her queen-size bed. I was able to control his spray to the back wall and her pillow. She handed me the last clean towel she owned (she owns three) and looked perplexed when I asked for clean sheets so I could change the bed for her. She told me that she only owned one set of sheets. I looked at her, in a 4am haze, and tried to remember my life before I had a child. I think even back then, it wouldn't have made sense to only have one set of sheets. That's even before I had a puke-o-matic lying next to me.