21 - A Ramble

We're around week 21 and Pregnant Chicken says that the Wolf is about the size of one of those awesome huge gummy bears. So we're past the halfway mark and now we're just going to watch Carly's cute belly turn into a monster.

This is about the time where I feel like we're coasting. Yes, there's a lot of stuff coming up that we have to worry about, but at this point everything is going well and we're experiencing a rather normal pregnancy.

So, now I can talk about depression. I don't want to go on and on about it like some self-help thing, but I realized early this year that I've been damned depressed for a while. It's the first time I think I've had this mode of chemical depression that I couldn't trace to mere stress or girlfriend troubles, and it's been weird.

Those of you who know me know that I'm not the person to sit around and just be bummed about stuff. I'm much more likely to explode than stand still. I'm not into danger, I'm just not into not doing when you could be doing. I want--I do. If I don't, I don't want enough. So I do nothing sometimes. Staring at a wall is a thing unto itself, but only when that's what you want.

Whatever. I just spent the better part of a year vaguely wanting to do things and deciding to do them, and then, not doing them. Go to lunch with friends? Sure! Or... not. I just wouldn't do things. I'd end up watching TV, maybe playing video games, who knows. It wasn't like I was upset about it, I just found myself doing the easy things, easing into it, and then letting it become routine. I didn't realize how much I wasn't doing until I forgot how to do things.

I noticed when the weather was all right. I would normally go walking around NYC when it was like that. Summer or winter didn't matter, I'd just go strap on my headphones and go some direction or another, go find a place to sit and read, have a beer, maybe window shopping. But this year I didn't. At least, not much. I think the thing that really made me wonder was when I realized I wasn't even looking for stuff to do anymore.

So I did some research and a bit of self-evaluation. Depression. Straight up depression. Common in men around 35, even people with great lives. Like me. I have a great life.

The thing is, depression is exacerbated by stress, life-changing events, etc. The body loses the ability to bounce back, loses resilience. I had a few of those. Losing the first fetus was rougher than I'd thought. Carly's long recovery and other setbacks were pretty bad. Work has been awful. Losing friends to other parts of the country was pretty sucky. One thing after another, never a chance to relax and recover.

I gained weight, I got a coffee addiction, I drank too much everything. I wasn't unpleasant, just kind of banal. I don't really like banal. I felt like I was on autopilot, turning into one of those skels from Colson Whitehead's book. Routine, routine, feel like taking a bath with a toaster.

Oh, wait, wait, no... not me. I'm not that. Not THAT. So, once I realized there was a problem I started working on it. A little more exercise, cut back on drinking, cut back on sugar and coffee. Walk around for the hell of it. Spend money if you have to, just do something! And now I'm starting on a Dungeons & Dragons story setting, maybe going to push it out to a crappy fantasy novel at some point. I'm getting there.

The other thing I'm doing is cooking a lot, and taking care of Carly and the Wolf. I need to figure out how to shower more frequently....