Is This It?

I woke yesterday morning and there it was—that ugly empty in the stomach world is falling and I want to fall with it feeling. Which is to say, depression. This has been a great summer and fall for me, mood-wise, but I knew the black dog would come for its visit. So I sat there and ate some breakfast and took a walk in the sun. I was going into the office late, because of an interview I was doing at noon over at the UW campus.

I caught a bus over to campus, feeling as though I were dragging myself through the process. It was the Monday press conference by the UW football coach and there were six television cameras and like 30 reporters. I could've just sat there like a lump and let everyone else ask questions and taken notes on what Coach said. But, as almost almost happens for me in a work situation, I rallied, began asking questions of my own, although sports is hardly my expertise as a reporter. I hung around afterwards, asked Coach some questions in semi-private, took notes, felt better.

Then I took a bus downtown to the office, where I proceeded to soon feel like shit. I could feel that heaviness to my body and that weird agitated flutter to my stomach that signals the beginning of something. As it always has. I tried to keep busy until 5 p.m. There were screaming gay teenagers on the bus ride home and it took everything I had not to stand up and scream at them to shut the fuck up. But I got home and took a 90-minute nap from which I awoke feeling unrestored.

It's with me. It's on me. There was nothing to trigger it. It just is—and every so often jumps up and demands that I pay my respects, my tribute. I hope it follows its usual pattern and doesn't hassle me for more than a week. I can survive this shit, walk right through it the way you would a bad snow storm. Hope that works this time out.