aspartame weekend

Friday: Not scheduled for a shift at the cafe, I did my laundry, abused the free wi-fi at my neighborhood coffee shop, and though I never had a craving for it, drank my weight in diet orange soda. Bizarre, I thought, as I mentally noted the empty cans in my trash bin.

Saturday: Yes, it was hard to get out of bed, and though I managed to get through the hair/make-up/get dressed routine, Depression was keeping me indoors, making excuses for me to NOT get to my studio today. Just then, I got an email from my dear and genuine friend Agata. She liked my blog, she said, and that I should feel free to please come hang out with her whenever I wanted to, and she wouldn't mind if Depression tried to tag along too (It can be a bit of a third wheel), she wouldn't judge. She called me 'lovely', I felt Embraced, and it sent me out the door.
         Upon my arrival to school, I whipped out my journal and wrote 3 free-writing pages of how proud of myself I was for getting there, how OKAY I felt that moment. I proceeded to play with watercolor pencils and paints and different kinds of paper.

This led to me tearing up a pieces of newspaper and writing on it, in black ink over the grayscale printed text, a letter to my ex-boyfriend, the Love of my Life. I agonized, I confronted, I lamented, I apologized, I accused. It took an entire page and by the end of it I was EXHAUSTED. I couldn't give my 'play time' another minute. With promises to myself and others that I'd be back the next day, I gathered up my purse and got on the bus. It wasn't until I was home that I noticed the paint on my hands and clothes. I must've been really 'expressing myself'.
    Even though it was Saturday night, my evening ended with comfy socks, a glass of white wine, and more Dave Eggers (AHWOSG).

Sunday: With every intention to go to my studio and do it all over again, I found myself sprawled on my couch with zero energy. Damn this Depression. Though I read and took reference notes on the entirety of Alice in Wonderland (trippy, trippy book, man. trippy.), journaled, and did research on the habits of the Victorian Era, I did it all from my couch while I watched a marathon of Say Yes To The Dress reruns.
    At least today I enjoyed myself while I did it. I didn't stay on my couch out of misery, like before. The Depression kept me indoors, but my Spirit was content.
  And watch for new sculpture ideas inspired by Alice's adventures, a Victorian aesthetic, and a wounded heart.

Sigh.
I've still not been able to go back to my Old Life, which included daily workouts and a hyper-productive schedule. I'm disappointed that I've not been to the gym in a couple weeks, and I've let my Self and my Home fall by the wayside (being so single compounds the latter).
I'm determined to pull out of this. The Desire is there, its just the Depression blocks the Motivation, blinds it, cuts it off at the knees.
Love can overcome all this, right? *please say yes* I believe Yes.


Oh also, I drank my weight in diet orange soda again.

The Depression seems to find something oddly comforting in orange-flavored carbonation.

Now I sit watching Mad Men (my first time!), with a glass of wine and a mild tummy ache, and crossing my fingers that the Universe hasn't given up on me quite just yet.



current mood: searching
current music: amanda palmer - the astronaut.