So I’ve been feeling it for a while now. Or maybe I haven’t. My sense of time has always been mucky. I’ve been feeling a bit melancholy. I have not been myself lately. And I want to hope that it is just the time of year, with the dreary wet and cold and cloudy weather or that maybe I needed a longer time away from work or it could be the residual affects of jet lag. But I remember something my friend Nicole said, back when I first told her that I was on medication. She said I would feel this way every time around the same time. Now, being the rational, logical person that I am, I didn’t think that was going to happen. I was on medication, re-learning how to see and process things. It didn’t make sense that an illness would recur every year at the same time. So I didn’t give it much thought. And in the 2 1/2 years when I was on meds, it wasn’t an issue, but since coming off the meds I have noticed that this melancholy feeling comes back every so often. I must’ve been able to deal with it, but I can’t seem to remember how. Now as I sit here typing on my iPad, that also happens to contain years upon years of everything I recorded in my calendar, I see that I stopped my meds in the summer of 2009 and then one month later the first baby was born. And there have been babies born almost every year afterwards.
Now this melancholy feeling and all the subsequent melancholy episodes have not been as bad as when I first got sick. But this time around, it’s sort of just staying put. And my friend Irene has noticed a change in me too. I hate to admit it, but I think it was when I re-read the Hobbit and found out (remembered) what happened at the end of the book. Since then I’ve become a little obsessed with (Don’t hate me for this), I’ve become obsessed with re-writing The Hobbit so it doesn’t end the way that it does. Gasp! I know. How can anyone think to re-write a classic? It would be like someone wanting to re-write Frank Herbert’s Dune or Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility. Anyway, don’t worry, I will never make public this story. It is only for myself. I like to think of it as a form of therapy. But I’ve been doing research on the history of dwarves and Tolkien’s Middle-Earth and I think what is bothering me is that, the story can’t be changed. It has to happen this way. The history of these characters and this land is set. And as I’ve been doing my re-writes, I am realizing that no matter how the beginning of the story is changed, the end will always stay the same. Now I don’t really think that it is The Hobbit that is causing me to feel this way, but it may be a contributing factor that is prolonging the feeling.
Back then, I was sick way before I admitted it to it. When you’re driving home from work and all of a sudden tears are flowing, something is wrong. But of course I did not see it that way. As far as I was concerned, I was just having a really bad day. So when I first admitted to myself that I needed help and went to see my doctor, she asked me what I was afraid of. She said I had to figure out what I was afraid of to help me get better. She then proceeded to give me a prescription and urged me to read some books that she thought would help. Of course I took the pills, but put off the books for a few months. At that time I had no interest in anything except to hope that a car would get into an accident in front of me and prevent me from getting to work and if I happened to get into a car accident, then that would work out the same. I don’t wish for that anymore. So if my sisters are reading this, I’m OKAY! But I never figured out what I was afraid of. I can say broadly, that I was afraid of change. And change still bothers me, but I can’t state specifically what I’m afraid of. But I think being afraid of change is a big thing. Life will always change. If it stayed the same, it would be awfully boring. Of course I can say that now. But back then, I wasn’t thinking straight. My thoughts kept bringing me back to the same bad thought. That I was trapped. No matter what I thought, the reasoning always brought me back to being trapped. Asking me now, I don’t think I’m trapped, but I still can’t tell you what I am afraid of. Or I might know and I am afraid to admit it. I haven’t figured it out yet and I’m probably just putting it off so I don’t have to admit to anything. I will admit that I still don’t like change, but I’m working on it.
Okay, after all that, I am feeling melancholy. And my thoughts are clearer, but I have to try to identify the issue or come up with a way to make it better. But it’s there, sitting in the pit of my stomach, verging on dread and sadness. Irene, thoughtful and caring, said I should stop re-writing The Hobbit and watch a happy movie. So I did, I watched an episode of The Vicar of Dibley, the one where the handsome stranger asks the Vicar to marry him. It was so absolutely funny and I laughed out loud like never before and then I wanted to cry. So I know something is bothering me.
But that will be another post at another time. Maybe it will pass. My tea is cold and I think I’ll wander the shops before they close. I need to find a book on New Zealand.