Tuesday, March 13, 2007

Pondering a war on my depressive funk...

A bitch has been in a depressive funk. They happen and when they do I resent the hell out of them. Damned turbulent emotions!

Anyhoo, a bitch has been pondering a war on my depressive funk.

Blink.

Shit, if America can be at war with terror this bitch can go to war with my depression. Come to think of it, my ass might declare war on all of my drama based emotions! This emotion-based war waging could turn into the new “it” therapy. Yeah! I could write a book…consult a bunch of experts…call it The Bitch-based Key and get rich as hell.

Pause.

If only I could get out of this depressive funk.

Sigh.

I’m in a funk and when in a funk I’m pretty damned proud of myself for rising from my bed, bathing and eating daily. Each day whilst the funk hovers about me I go about my bitness hoping that nothing happens.

That’s right…nothing. Because it already feels as if the darkness is going to shallow a bitch whole. Lawd have mercy if one more negative thing happens and topples me into hospital!

Wince.

So I spent the weekend hoping nothing would happen…yet it did. Hoping that no one would choose those two back to back days to want to talk or complain or critique or laugh or debate or discuss or be in my funkified presence.

Shit.

But life continues even when we’re drowning in a sea of emotional drama.

The new dawg…the chores that are always there even when it takes twice as long to accomplish them because I’m moving through invisible mud…the bills…the social occasions that I no longer have the energy to prepare for.

Life just keeps coming...being…moving…pushing.

But hey, I woke up yesterday…bathed…got dressed…forced myself to eat…went to work.

Life.

Came home at lunch to check on the new hound.

Going.

Didn’t eat…wasn’t hungry…but went back to work.

On.

Only to complete my day, walk outside and discover that some shameless motherfucker who is now officially cursed to the deepest level of Dante’s hell blew past Miss Sister Girl Cabrio and took out her other mirror.

Longtime readers will note that a bitch’s passenger side mirror was taken out by a driver for the pizza company that shall not be called by name but is also damned to a vengeful hell.

Now the car maintenance that this bitch has been avoiding is…well, unavoidable.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck followed by fuck!

I indulged in a fantabulous snot based cry…vicious tears, I tell you…hiccups were involved, for real!

And I emerged spent but not broken.

Still going on.

Yes, this bitch is at war with depression. I suppose fighting battles by getting up, bathing, dressing and going to work.

Sigh.

And if I find the motherfucker who took out my Cabrio’s other mirror I’m going to accomplish a serious mission on her or his fleeing the scene of a crash-esque incident ass!

21 comments:

Undercover Black Man said...

I know it's all about brain chemicals and shit, so mere words can't make a difference, BUT... might as well tell you... you rock. You're a joy to read. Even when you're not feeling joyful.

And what about fighting the funk with funk... as in, a twice-daily dose of "Mothership Connection" and Bootsy's "Player of the Year"??

Couldn't hoit.

EverydaySuperGoddess said...

Oh, that's a drag.

I'm sorry you're in a funk.

Pull in the sails and ride it out, that's about all you can do.

Because some days, the best we can do is the best we can do, even if it isn't all that great.

pat said...

I am sorry you're blue, Shark-Fu. Would imagining yourself as a giant rampaging Godzilla-type creature crushing all of your enemies underneath your scaly feet help? That always does it for me. How's Theo?
PS: thanks for the Ann Coulter dream. She's a real poo poo head, that one.

Anonymous said...

Sorry to hear you are under a cloud. You just have to ride it out. I love reading you, and wondered about your love life. I know maybe you don't want to get too personal, but I never hear anything of you getting it on with anyone. Yeah, a bitch needs to get laid. That will put you over the moon a bit. I am just saying.

Shark-fu said...

Undercover...good idea! A bitch is on it!

everydaysupergoddess...true, too true!

pat...Theo is doing great! Baying a lot, but doing real good.

Anonymous...if only it were so simple. Prozac would go out of business! Thanks for the laugh, though...

Clio Bluestocking said...

I'm looking forward to seeing The Bitch-based Key in a bookstore soon.

Depression is a mutha. I always thought some jazz musician should write a song called "Existential Funk" just for such moods. Sorry that you are feeling crappy because you are simply grand.

May that other mutha who targeted your car cross your path soon. He (or she) should get the brunt of your funk.

Megan said...

Sending strength and endurance and hope your way. If you're doing the best you can, you're doing an incredible thing. I'm so impressed by your perspectives and perseverance.

MAWG said...

ABB - So how is the war on terror working for scooter b and his buddies? Declaring war on emotions? Just as hopeless.

I only started getting over depression when I stopped resenting it and realized those emotions were trying to tell me something. Maybe the funk is your friend. It took me years to face that shit. You're probably smarter/wiser/more courageous than me. Go for it!

Emily in Florida said...

A Few Instructions for a Bitch...

1. Have some of my nice matzah ball soup (cooked by this Sicilian-Italian Jewish bitch);

2. Sit back and ponder life as the Sicilian-Italian Jewish Bitch takes out the MF who dared come THISCLOSE to ABB's chariot, Sister Girl Cabrio;

3. Have some Smarties and a warm hug from this Sicilian-Italian Jewish Bitch and faith that it WILL get better.

~Macarena~ said...

Do bitchfirmations help you at these times, or are they too much work?

You might want to check whether any pizzas were delivered near your office on the date in question. Obviously, there is a conspiracy afoot to prevent SisterGirl from using her mirrors to make Cabriofirmations.

sly civilian said...

that bites. wishing you smarties and better days.

Saskia said...

Yep, you just have to ride these things out, keep putting one foot in front of the other, etc.... but it's okay to go easy on yourself, to forgive yourself. Sometimes we get down on ourselves for being down in the first place, if you know what I mean. Take care, and remember you are loved.

Ancrene Wiseass said...

I know exactly what you mean, ABB. Exactly.

Here's hoping the funk takes its punk ass off to where it belongs and leaves you alone very soon.

storm indigo said...

Sending you big hugs and understanding. I do understand. The season doesn't help--enough with the winter crap already. I am with you.

I applaud you for being your bad self--girlfriend getting out of bed is major during these times; not to mention showering and getting to work. You go on, girl, you go on.

And the worst thing...laying off the vodka crans (don't give me that look) you know that just makes a sista worse. I tell you, I understand. There is a bottle of pinot noir calling my name, but I cannot indulge until the clouds clear.

...and bless anonymous' heart for wishing you some horizonal, or acrobatic, healing. It's worth a go.

peace

denise k. said...

You described depression perfectly. Especially the mud. Hope you are feeling better real soon. Also, I think it is very nice of you to adopt that stray dog. That's some good karma coming your way, for sure.

Late Edition said...

i'll buy and read any damn thing you care to write, m'dear. Battle on and every other depression-fighting cliche i can think of. You're always a treat to read ... :>

cats said...

oh sweetie,

i remember bawling like my best friend had died because we were out of corn when i was in one of my funks. (and i know that it has always helped to know there are others out there who understand just what being in one of those funks is like)

keep getting out of bed, bathing, and getting dressed. i'm sending prayers prayers and positive energy your way that this will pass soon.

Jeff said...

I am popping downstairs right now with some Smarties-based therapy. Kisses! (Hershey's kisses that is--yeah, those too.)

Anonymous said...

Ah, yes, I remember those days. One thing that helped me get through the "mud" was allowing myself to celebrate the little triumphs just as much as I despaired over the little tragedies. I mean, if you allow yourself to cry over the car damage, allow yourself to throw a little private party of self-congratulations that you were at least able to get out of bed today! If not having that can of corn in the house gets you down, don't forget to get "up" that you actually had enough energy, will and hunger to get off the couch to poke around in the cupboard for dinner!

Maybe, just possibly, at the end of the day you could count up your triumphs (got up, showered, went to work, ate at least one healthy meal, called one friend to check in even if you don't feel like talking...) and see they outnumbered (if not outweigh) the bummers of the day (car trouble, draggin' your ass around, etc...)

Anonymous said...

I think you're on to something with the Bitch-based Key. As a counseling psychology student, we could do this together. I also frequently wage a war on my depression. Sometimes, though, I find that it takes waging a war on others to get me out of my funk...There could be two keys: when to wage war and when to solve your own internal problems before bombing the shit out of another country...Oh. I'm getting off the point, but you get it.

The Angry Independent said...

I have the same things going on...

I don't know what keeps me going... possibly an inkling of hope that if I can improve my economic situation (find a better job)... the other problems will fix themselves. Most of my issues stem from a lack of cashflow.

You have to find some reason to keep moving.

But it's even worse as a Black man. There are fewer things to be happy about... everytime you look around... you see your reflection either on the news, in the newspaper, on the radio, etc... doing crime, & F---ing things up in all manner of ways.

We used to be able to rely on our pride to drive us through to the next day.... but I often wonder- What Pride? Even that is gone now.