i think i’m depressed.

no.

i know i’m depressed.

i can usually tell when the thought, ghastly, like a ghostly little goldfish, flits through the back of my brain: ” wouldn’t it be so much better not to be here?” not like i’m about to dine on rat-poison or guzzle a gazillion pills, but it’s usually a marker that it’s getting a little dark around here. that i’m swimming in the deep end.

i keep trying to psyche myself out, pollyanna myself to the positive, but to no avail. maybe it has something to do with the rising interest rates and seeing the holes form in my otherwise really reliable safety nets. or maybe it’s the switch i’ve made from inane music stations on my daily commute, to in-your-face-reality talk radio. i’m beginning to think that the only way to get from day to day is denial. maybe a trip up a river in egypt is in order.

i’d love to know how others keep afloat because my little dinghy is taking on water and seriously in danger of sinking. you know, not waving, but drowning…
(image by kendra gadzala)