A Visit with Depression

I was sitting at my computer tonight, trying to work on my lesson for Sunday, when Depression stopped by for a visit.

"I can see your heart's not in your study, so I thought I'd just, you know, drop in and talk with you for a little while."

I looked at him with that piercing glance I reserve for individuals who have taken my parking space, but he stared back and me with those big black eyes has has. I hate that stare.

I sighed, and closed down my lesson. "Yeah, I'm a little distracted. My heart's not in this tonight."

"I know" he replied in that silky, sort of soft undertone that sounds so sad and so vicious at the same time. " I tried to speak with you earlier, but you weren't listening."

"Look, I'm sorry. You remember today was my last day, right? I tend to try and put these things somewhere else."

"I know. It's almost scary when you consider the totality of it."

I shot him an annoyed glance. "You been talking with Fear again? Is he just out around the corner."

Depression laughed - one of the few times I think I've heard him laugh. "No no, he's got the night off - I think he said he was running out for a Jamba Juice and visit to Borders. He thought, given the situation, that it might be awhile before he could slip out again."

Fabulous. Even my emotions are taking time off to prepare.

I refocused my thoughts. "So what's on your mind? It's late. If I'm not going to get to this lesson, I might as well go to bed."

Depression looked at me with that silly smile I hate so much. "Oh, nothing. Just thought I'd check in. I figure we're going to be spending a lot more time together in the near future. You know, last day and all."

I stared back with as fierce a gaze as I could muster. "The heck we are. We've been down this road before, you and I, and a lot of other roads than this. Worse roads than this. You always promise me something, yet you never can seem to deliver."

Depression jerked his eyebrows up in surprise. "I? Promises? I never make promises - you know that."

"You absolutely do" I responded. "You promise me that following you and wallowing in it constitutes action. We both know that's not true. You're a liar."

The smile, I noted in passing, was gone from his face.

"Fine. Have it your way. You're heart's not in that lesson, and it's not in facing reality either. I'll be back. Say Monday - I figure the first day of being unemployed will make you want to have a more in depth conversation with me. I'll pencil it in." And with that, he swirled and almost stomped out of the room.

I sat in the stillness after his passing. A liar? I called him a liar? I never thought of that way before, but now that I did, that was right. Being depressed was a lie - it offered inaction and emotional torment as a way of taking action and solving problems when in fact, it was so self-focused and bent purely on feeding the emotional appetite of things which could not help me, but only harm me.

Feeling better, perhaps the first time in years, I settled back with a book. Sure, Depression was upset now, but maybe he'd come around. I could always see if he was willing to accept a job transfer.

It would probably beat dressing in black all the time.