…Like a Laptop in a Swimming Pool

I’ve been meaning to revive this blog, and today seemed like as good a day to do it as any. Especially after the drop my mood took this morning.

Do you have places you go that regularly affect your mood for the worse? The farmers’ market is one of mine, and I can’t figure out why.

I didn’t feel that bad when I woke this morning. I had some errands to run and had made arrangements to borrow a housemate’s car, since I have not yet figured out how to get to this market, which is on the outskirts of town, by bus. Within a few minutes of arriving at the market, though, I could feel my mood sinking, like a laptop in a swimming pool.

(I love that simile. I read it somewhere, years ago, and it stuck in my mind. I love the imagery. Can you see it—a laptop computer hits the water and slowly but surely descends to the bottom, its journey slowed somewhat by the density of the water but succumbing nonetheless to gravity’s inescapable grasp? Who hasn’t felt frustrated enough with a computer to want to throw it into the nearest body of water?)

My first rule of depression is that I don’t let my mood change my plans or stop me from doing the things I need to do. A low mood doesn’t have to have any more effect on my long-term plans than a headache or toothache would. I keep going. My mood may stay bad, but at least I won’t beat myself up later for not getting anything done.

When my mood started to drop at the market this morning, I didn’t feel like looking for any of the items on my shopping list. I was tempted to just get back in the car, drive home and stay there the rest of the day. Do you ever get that desperate feeling that you are doomed and that nothing you do matters? That feeling that comes out of nowhere and feels so primal it must be true?

Over the years, I’ve learned that feelings and moods aren’t always true. In fact, where depression and anxiety are concerned, they rarely are. So, as desperate as I felt, I did my shopping. I bought the items I had gone to the market to buy, when what I really wanted was to be at home with a book and a cup of tea. There would be time for that later. I got my favourite bread from the Portuguese baker (great with cashew butter and strawberry jam) and chicken pies from the lady with the English accent who calls me “Love”. I completed the rest of my errands and went home.

It’s late evening now, and I feel much better. I got my errands done, and that feels good. Evening tends to be my best time of day, and morning my worst. Let’s hope tomorrow isn’t the same thing all over, even without the market.

J