Well hi there. It feels like ages. Apparently this is what happens when you go along with your day-to-day.
Had a bout of depression to deal with. It left an obscene amount of clutter in my head. Clearing it hasn’t been easy. Progress has been slow. At least there has been progress. I walked into the bedroom yesterday, looked at the corner where the laundry basket sits and said, “I really need to get my day sorted.” Matt asked me what I meant and I explained that the house was suffering from my ‘lack of stability’ and I needed to actively restructure my time. Curious how looking at a pile of laundry can cause and epiphany.
I haven’t really been idle. I’ve been doing things. That’s the funny thing about depression. It can make you feel like you haven’t been doing anything at all and feel like crap for it too.
Recently I’ve started going to something called ‘meet-ups’. This particular meet-up group revolves around food and conversation. It really is a great way to explore the city/town you live in. (If interested go take a look at the website.)
This last week Matt said something that made me stop and think — On our way home from a particularly interesting dinner meet-up we were talking about personality types. I can’t recall the exact conversation but I recall saying something to the effect that my personality was quite introverted. Matt paused and then said he disagreed. I am paraphrasing here – “That might have been the case several years ago, but really, when you are properly medicated you are extremely extroverted.”
My response? Silence then, “Huh.”
I couldn’t even begin to form a coherent response. I was that surprised by his assessment of me. No, I wasn’t upset over the medication comment – I freely admit that my chemical make-up is unbalanced and needs the assistance. I’ve never been referred to as being extroverted. Seriously. I’m the girl sitting in the corner watching the room, or sitting at a table full of people – listening but not talking. The veritable wall-flower as it were. Afraid to say anything because I am scared. Scared that I sound like an idiot. I’m scared that I will ramble on and on and on, unable to stop. Scared that my viewpoints are childish. Or that I will latch on to something and just not let it go. I often feel like I simply don’t know a damned thing and am floundering along.
And these thoughts come right on the heels of having just left a dinner meet-up at which I talked with other people and expressed my opinions. A meet-up that I encouraged Matt to go to with me where I knew more people than he did.
Have I mentioned that I convinced him to go to an open Yoga class event? There were over 200 people there. We knew one person. (It was a lot of fun by the way.)
I’ve done things on my own as well – volunteered for a summer camp, assisted in Cocktails for a Cause several times…
So there must be some truth to what Matt said. I have been actively attempting to put myself out in the world for the last two – maybe three – years. But it still doesn’t change the fact that I feel all these insecurities.
I realized something just before I started writing this post – all of those insecurities? It’s the depression talking. The imbalance of chemicals lies. Lies a lot AND about everything. It yells and yells until it drowns out everything else, making it hard to see things for what they really are.
So I find myself staring at a basket filled with clothes. It is, to my mind, the physical manifestation of all the clutter in my head. Time to do the laundry.