When Depression Interrupts Your Fun Night

Last night, Spice and I met at Hobby Lobby to buy cross stitch materials. It turns out that my Newf is also a 90-year-old woman trapped in a much younger body (her body is almost 10 years younger than mine, so discovering her Old Lady Interests has been even that much more exciting to this Nerd). She has done cross stitch in the past and assured me that it's just counting. She said, "No math, just counting." Uh huh. Whatevs. I've done cross stitch, too, so I know it can be a bit tricky. But once you get the hang of it, it's super fun and relaxing. It's something fun To Do. And doing it with a friend? Even more fun. Whee!

Last night, my goal was to find two different projects. I've learned through trial and error that if I'm buying one small thing to work on, I should probably buy two. I have a few reasons for this behavior:

1. If it turns out that I'm magically good at something, I'll be annoyed if I finish it quickly and will want another one right away.
2. If I am horribly bad at something, I will want an alternative immediately.

I made a wise choice in picking up two cross stitch projects last night. The one I ended up truly embracing was the one I had wanted the most. It will eventually look nothing something like this:

The butterflies do not have a pattern stamped on to the material, which means I have to read the wackadoo directions Very Carefully. Spice said there was no math, but she failed to mention the giant math-like symbol-filled grid that comes with cross stitch. Ahem.

The other project I chose looks easier, but it's actually a little more confusing methinks. There is a stamped pattern, but the colors bleed from one box to another, so I'm not entirely sure which box I am supposed to be in. Also? The holes in the material are ENORMOUS. I started putting a few stitches in the lower left area of the flower. Can you tell? No. I can't even tell and I'm looking right at it. Maybe in this case, I should have used the whole piece of floss. I don't know:

So Spice and I bought our projects, went to eat dinner, and then went to the watering hole to meet up with her boyfriend. We unloaded our projects and were met with raised eyebrows and a slew of comments intended to mock us and point out how UnCool we were. Seriously? Aren't we a little old for hazing? I guess not. The people at the watering hole should NOT be confused by my behavior by now. One night, I brought in my sketch pad and drew little posters for everyone I came in contact with -- including two strangers who were on a first date sitting next to me. I've also crocheted at least two scarfs while sitting at one of those bar stools. But last night, it was game on.

In a matter of five minutes, one guy walked up to me and said something like: "This is why you need to get laid."

I tried my very best to brush off all of the zings by explaining that this was a hobby, a form of creativity, and something To Do besides sit there and get wasted on a Wednesday night. A few people were actually interested, including a guy friend of mine who told me he thought it was neat. Very nice. But mostly, the overall feeling I got was disappointment. I had been having a great night with Spice. The cross stitch had been fun and interesting and challenging. But after a couple of more zings, my internal happy bubble collapsed.

Spice has a thicker skin than I do -- or at least it appears that way. I could be wrong. For the most part, she got started and focused in on her cross stitch and appeared to not give two sh*ts what anyone thought about it, and she most likely didn't. I probably would have been right there with her without a care in the world, but sometime during our evening, I moved the wrong way and my back went into a wicked spasm that was very knifelike. I'd been having such a good time with Spice, so I told her I'd hurt my back, but I didn't want to tell her how much it hurt. I tried to keep my Happy Face on.

My back has been doing SO much better, but suddenly, I felt I was right back at -- quite literally -- square one. All of the Happy Thoughts I've been shuttling around in my brain started to ebb out. I felt sad, in a lot of pain, and frustrated that people are so nosy and judgy and can't just let people Be Different without being a$$hats about it. Even though the people were joking (no one was seriously trying to hurt my feelings, I'm sure), I couldn't help but get the feeling that they were Hope Destroyers.

I think I was so affected by the looks -- the looks were what happened the most -- and the comments because I got an email yesterday that was in direct contrast to what was happening at the watering hole. My dear old friend Isis and I have been emailing back and forth about life. I had expressed to her that I've been in a very Dark Place this last year, and I'm fighting to get out of it. I didn't ask her for permission to print these words, but I think she would be OK with it (hope this is OK, Isis). We were talking about Being Present and working hard to appreciate what we have. She wrote:

"I'm with you in savoring our life. Because it's so wonderfully wonderful and shitty and funny and stupid and everything else. But it's happening. Now. I'll help you savor your time at farmhouse villa working your fabulous freelance career, living near your family and being close to friends and a beautiful countryside in a beautiful state that you call home. I know the demons you fight but I will help you see how fabulous your life is today and help you see that your future is going to be fabulous too."

I felt SO uplifted when I read her words. She told me I'm too special and amazing to be lying around in my bed feeling sad. It's so odd when you hear things like that about yourself from other people. Really? I am? It's the daily battle to tell ourselves: Yes, you are.

On any other day, I could have walked into the watering hole and heard all of these exact same silly comments about needing a man or doing old lady activities or whatever else someone wanted to say and it would not have affected me at all. And, I will admit that I, too, have shamelessly mocked people about their own interests in that "it's all good fun, I love you" kind of way -- many times. So in all honesty, I'm not mad at anyone and there will be no long-term affects from the jokes. For reals. I don't need to be treated with kid gloves. I'm not usually so delicate.

But last night, when my back went back to hell so quickly, it did open up a pathway to the Dark Place. I struggled to keep my sh*t together. I wanted to "give in." Crawl into my bed and cry and let myself be swallowed with the fear that something is really, really wrong with my back -- and me as a person. It's such a Siren, depression. It's so easy to walk down that path. And people have no idea how quickly or easily they can set it off over something so small and stupid and harmless at any other time of the day or week or year.

I woke up this morning feeling sad. I'm in pain again. AGAIN. And tonight I have my painting class, so I'm going to be walking around and bending and carrying things and OH IT WILL BE AWFUL. I would much rather crawl back into my bed and lie immobile for a few days. But I can't. I won't. I will pop this pain pill and this steroid, focus on my work, and go to my class.

And in a few days when I pick up my cross stitch again, I will become so fascinated by the tiny squares that I will completely forget about whatever happened at the watering hole. Slowly, my back IS going to heal. Slowly, I AM going to feel better about myself and my life. I've been doing a pretty good job so far this year, but it's important to remind myself that you CAN'T be happy all the time. It's unrealistic. It's setting a goal you are sure to fail at. It's OK to have a bad day, or a bad moment. It's OK, Blondie. It doesn't mean you're not getting better. It simply means you're having a bad day. The sky will not fall.

And, because I found this awesome site called Subversive Cross Stitch, the next time I bring a cross stitch project to the watering hole, I know exactly what it will be: