It’s strange how it happens. I don’t think that anyone really believes me, when I tell them about the last year and a-half. They see my perky hair and smile (someone actually said to me last week “wow. I like your smile”) and they hear the words “I’m not doing okay, depression is overbearing in my life, but it doesn’t fit with what they are looking at.
Nor should it. For when I’m saying those words, it doesn’t fit. That’s because I’m usually sincerely glad to be where I am. Happy to be away from my life. Happy to be with the people I’m suddenly around.
Today though. I felt the shift. It was audible, physical. We’re in the car after I’ve been at the EC Meeting all morning. The kids are n the back and they are tired. Molly asks where is her pillow. The blue pillows that I bought for camping. And the car seats. That I have specifically set aside with their snuggies as car accessories. That are now packed, crammed away in the back somewhere.
How is this possible? And it’s not that I don’t see all the work that has obviously been done. I do. Of course I do. The car is FULL. I know that didn’t happen all by itself. The gas tank is full, the fridge has been cleaned out, the truck was packed. I SEE all of that.
So I say “Maybe you didn’t know this, but I bought those pillows along with the snuggies for car rides. So the kids could have them in the car. For next time, now you know.” And he replies “I packed them. There weren’t any specific instructions about them.” All morning, and parts of yesterday I tried to give specific instructions and then this morning tried to alleviate some of the remembering of all the instructions by taking care of a few things. I didn’t think to give specific instructions about the pillows and snuggies because My God, we’ve only talked about how those stupid snuggies and pillows are for the kids to have IN THE FUCKING CAR. I then take a breath and say “I’m not trying to be offensive, I just want you to know.”
And I just sink. Sink under the veil of miscommunication and depression. Vowing that as soon as I get back from this trip I’m going to start popping the pills. Why am I resistant. I just want to be numb to this life.
Am I finally getting to a point where the things that I’m “grateful” for are not worth enough for the things that I really want? I would rather be alone than have someone who can’t think of the little things that make us a family who thinks about each other. The small things like how he goes to the pantry and knows that something will be there because I think things like that. And I think of those things, not because I’m a goody goody, better than anyone else, but because it’s that little stuff that says I’m thinking about you. Your needs/wants are important to me.
Even more so though. Without those things – that would be fine. If he could have said something like “oh. Of course those pillows were for the girls in the car. I forgot!” Instead, the defense. And then the veil falls. Why do I keep being disappointed? Because I continually have some sort of different hope/expectation I suppose. And that’s what I want to get rid of. Just numb that chit right out of me. No more veil falling, just a continual fog instead. That’s what I want.
