fine

I am not fine. And I am about to write a blog that will later go down as "too honest" or simply "too much," but this is the next in a long line of remedies.

I've been seriously depressed for the past month--I've been depressed since I was 11, but never this severely. This time there hasn't been a solution or a repreive, although I am working on that with a doctor, a psychologist, and (in the near future) a psychiatrist. There are moments when I feel like myself--like Sarah or even like eg--when I'm teaching every morning, when I spent a day with my cousin Meghan, and one night when I couldn't stop writing poetry that I finally looked at again today. It's actually not too bad. The poetry, not the depression. The depression never leaves and I find myself taking odd opportunities to get emotional: crying, raging, pretending I don't exist.

Today is actually the one month mark. I know the day this started. It was the day I pulled my last all-nighter, attempting to bring my thesis to a level worthy of defense. I worked frantically all day, all night, all day. And in the end, I came up short. I haven't touched my thesis since then, which I know is weak but I also know that it gives me a headache, among other undesirable side effects. It was also the day Abby was born. She's beautiful, perfect. And I didn't want to admit to my failure in the middle of the celebration. So I waited. And when I finally allowed myself to wallow in my third-year grad student status, I couldn't stop wallowing. I haven't stopped. I haven't written much, excepting that one night of manic poetics.

I'm not sure why I'm writing this, other than the responsibility I feel to those who read or used to read this blog. Most of you are friends, some of you my most important friends. I'm sorry if I've somehow let you down this month. I promise I'm trying to make it better.