It happens every year. September hits and I instantly fall into a deep depressive state. I know it’s coming, and I try to prepare for it, but the more I fight it the harder it hits. I’ve been wanting to write about it because I know I’m not the only one it happens to, but when I’m in this state, I can’t find the energy or will to do anything like writing. It’s kind of a catch-22 situation, isn’t it? I want to write about the state I’m in, but to write about it I need to not be in the state I’m in.
So I’m fighting harder.
I looked through my blog archives and I’ve apparently written every fall about the fall that happens in the fall. I know the pattern, but somehow I keep thinking this is a recent thing, like in the past it wasn’t this bad. But reading all the way back to my 2004 posts I’ve had this problem with September. How long before that did this whole thing begin? When I was first diagnosed with depression, my doctor was shocked to find out that I couldn’t remember a time when I didn’t feel the way I did, because I thought that it was just the way I was. But to find out that NO, JENNIFER, YOU HAVE A SERIOUS PROBLEM. There was now just a label for it.
Did I ever tell you that my college therapist, a seminary student, wrote a paper on me? True story. He asked my permission because he found me particularly intriguing. I should have asked to read that paper once it was written.
A big problem with fall is that it has its tentacles deeply embedded in summer. I look forward to summer all eight months of winter. But when summer does finally come for the two months between the month of Spring and the month of Fall, all the stupid fall stuff starts coming out in the middle of it. And Christmas stuff comes out at Costco. Stupid Costco. I hate your stinkin’ guts. You make me vomit. You’re the scuuum between my toes. (If you didn’t get this reference, then you need to go in the way way back machine and watch Little Rascals.) Why can’t Fall and Christmas just LEAVE SUMMER ALONE??? I do not understand.
This summer went by too fast, which is totally a cliché that is always said about things that are enjoyed, I know, but it did. I feel like the trees just bloomed, and now the leaves are falling. We had such a late spring, it isn’t fair that the season is changing so quickly. It’s still “summer” till mid September! Plus, this August has been particularly awful, weather-wise. Too many dark days. I don’t do well with dark days.
I’ve been watching an episode of The X-Files every day, participating in #TheXFiles201Days, something put on by Fox starting 201 days before the six-episode event series that premieres on January 24. Two-hundred-and-one episodes for 201 days. I don’t think they counted the movies in there, so those will just be bonuses I get to watch on the days they chronologically fall on. Today is Season 3 Episode 8, which is episode number 57. My point in saying all this is that I feel like this whole thing just started. But 57 days have passed, which is more than 1/4 of the way to January, which is the worst month ever. Though I guess there are a few things to look forward to before then, like the final Hunger Games movie in November and the new Star Wars movie in December. But I have a hard time looking forward to those things because they will be happening in winter and I do not care for winter one bit.
I’ve been stupid sensitive lately. Like in the shower earlier today when I was listening to a playlist Noah made me a while back and I’ll Be by Edwin McCain came on. I got all emotional thinking of Bruce Willis giving his life so that Ben Affleck could be with Liv Tyler, and then afterwards realizing that I had the song incorrect and it was actually I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing by Aerosmith. See? Mind fubar’d. And you know that feeling when you’ve had a good cry? I felt that all day, along with the inability to stop shaking. September, you’ve already ruined me.
Noah doesn’t really know what do to when I’m in this deep depressive state. Because nothing he can do will fix it. He tries, like giving me time-outs and supporting my chocolate habit and reminding me to take my meds, but I know it bothers him that he can’t do more.
All I can do now is count down the days till next summer starts, right? By my calculations, 302 and counting …