Do you ever feel like you are about to combust? If you would like to be comforted by someone else’s downer, read on. If you would like to be cheered and bolstered, please click on one of the other links to the right of the Wonderlust blogpage. Or maybe my downer will cheer and bolster you like an episode of Geordie Shore does for me and that is perfectly okay too.
You see, I have a confession to make… I get depressed sometimes.
It’s the monotony and the busyness and the wanting to be alone and the isolation. And sometimes it’s just because of THE WEATHER. And before this there was something else. I saw snow on the mountains this morning and wanted to scream. ‘Summer’ isn’t even over! Damn you oppressive rain! Get fucked cloudy sky! (I shake my hand at it like an angry pensioner) I can’t take another 9 months of winter. I do not accept it. I understand why people overeat. Yesterday I ate a King Size Snickers bar and two slices of Margarita pizza from Bachmann at the train-station. Margarita! Can you imagine? I didn’t know what else to do. My heart felt too small for my chest. It was either going to suffocate or explode.
Aren’t we all a bit depressed sometimes? How much are we hiding?
Or perhaps it’s not all of us. There are those whose moods sweep them away (like me) and then there are the ones (like my mum and M) who are stable and are here to look after and/or be terrorised by people like me. I’m actually a really nice person…
I felt to write this because it is hard to admit. I could just wait until I got happy again but that feels dishonest this week when there is such a large chunk of homesickness stuck in my throat. It’s like nausea, coming in waves. Sometimes I’m very happy and sometimes I’m totally dissatisfied. I have no job to blame now. It is me against the country.
Sometimes I do the opposite of the gratitude list – at least you have not been raped, at least you are mobile, at least your family and friends are safe, at least there has been no tsunami wiping out your city… it doesn’t work for more than a minute. I still feel sorry for myself. The mood has tackled and taken me down.
It’s a chemical thing perhaps, a hormonal one, the full moon is upon us. It is an ailment of modern life. We are allowed to think about our own happiness – we are not just surviving after all – and we’re surrounded by so many images of perfection. I do it too. I post pictures of beautiful clear skies because that’s what I’m appreciating so much. But when my friends came to visit us at the end of spring and start of summer (on two separate occasions), it rained almost the whole time.
Of course there is beauty in the rain … but it’s just not that much fun!
The positivity and personal growth stuff also started to get on my nerves. I love it and then one day I don’t. Do you ever feel like you are suddenly rejecting all the things that had previously made you happy? Like you have overdosed on them? Suddenly there are too many voices and I want to kick them all out of my head and just hear one voice – mine.
So I self-medicated. M was away and I watched hour after hour of unobstructed Geordie Shore on Saturday night. Six episodes of Geordie Shore is enough to drown out the perfect voices in my head. I went to bed at 3am, heart-heavy, but awoke the next morning to the bitching, expressionful chatter of Charlotte and Vicky. It was amazing.
One hour of Geordie Shore leaves me wondering whether I have a defect of personality, but four hours of it was a total obliteration of the self! I wasn’t thinking about how I could be better – I’ve already been instructed in the art of self-improvement Aerobics Oz style – and everyone knows reality TV makes us feel good. All the Geordies do is get mortal, pull birds, buck, tash on, argue (what’s Geordie for argue?), eat kebabs and brawl. Yes the Geordies are extremely lyrical – Charlotte makes wonderful metaphors and Vicky curses wildly and extravagantly. I think they do great things with the English language. I woke up feeling more creative than I have done in ages.
Those Northerners illuminated the missing piece and the truth shone brightly like Vicky’s bleached bum hole (sorry I’ve been taken over by the Geordies). I came to see that I’d been unbalanced. I was all ying and no yang. The peaceful, conscientious, homework-doing side was becoming like James’s overdeveloped biceps. Geordie Shore brought me back to the side of my self I’d forgotten – the untamed curly-haired teenager who was inconsiderate and adventure-bound. I wanted to resurrect her. I had thought that becoming more of the child I’d been and piling on the sand to bury that teenage girl was a good thing. But now I feel so contained and am ready to scream my head off (like a drunk Geordie ha ha). In my teens I too got really drunk and made a fool of myself – and not in a polite way like rollerblading badly. I ate kebabs late at night and put on weight like the Geordie Girls. I forgot to call home and forgot to pay my phone bills. I try to think of things I can do now to free myself but even riding a motorbike seems ‘allowed’.
How did Stella get her groove back?
I don’t know what I’m going to do. I have been wearing more make-up to try and care. Maybe I’ll take up tango lessons like Richard Gere would do if he was having a crisis of self (on screen). Maybe I’ll do nothing and see what happens with the weather and how much longer I can take it. I’ll keep unstacking the dishwasher and maybe I’ll start to care about that again. Maybe my collection of jars will make me happy. Maybe I will look at the orchids in my living room and feel peace as the rain pours down on all the poor tourists below. Maybe I just need to wait and ride this one out.
We watched ‘Knocked Up’ on Sunday evening. This scene stuck out most.
Pete : I wished I liked anything as much as my kids liked bubbles.
Ben : That’s sad.
Pete : Totally sad. Their smiling faces just point out your inability to enjoy anything.
Well, I think it is time for another episode of Geordie Shore. Then I will put my face on and go back out into the world, wondering who else is feeling this way. I will put on my music as I walk outside and perhaps then happiness will return, pouncing like a cat or sliding up my limbs to come and rest upon my shoulders.