Knock on Wood
Or been close to folks who have
Have you ever felt a pain so powerful
So heavy you collapse
I've never had to knock on wood
But I know someone who has
Which makes me wonder if I could
-- "The Impression That I Get" (Mighty Mighty Bosstones)
This week I feel incredibly heavy. I have battled depression on and off in the past, but it's back with a vengeance. I feel worse than I ever have in my life and am considering calling my doctor. It does not rain much in this area normally, but the sky opened days ago and has not let up since. Our Memorial Day weekend was spent mostly inside doing a lot of nothing. Supposedly, things will begin to clear tomorrow. I normally love the rain, but this is a bit much.
Erik is vacillating between being a delightful angel and throwing fits straight from the depths of hell. We had a good morning yesterday before work. I constructed a rather shoddy fort out of couch cushions and a blanket, and he dove into it, hitting his head loudly on the door that served as one of its walls. He came out holding his head, and when I made a big fuss over him and planted my lips over the spot where his hand had been, he said, "That's better," and went back to playing. By the time my parents brought him back in the afternoon, he had decided he was furious at the cat for no reason and flailed his limbs around, slapped the air, growled, attempted to slam furniture and toys into the floor, and generally had a giant cow. After dinner, the three of us walked up the gravel drive to the neighbors in the drizzle and enjoyed cocktails together. It did Erik a world of good. He was offered some orange juice, which he politely accepted. He sipped from his glass and told my friend, "This is very good. Thank you." He was excited to play with Max and Maggie, the two daschunds there. He gently held their long faces in his hands and talked to them in a funny voice that sounded an awful lot like one of the funny voices I use frequently (yeah, I'm insane). He said, "Whatchoo doin dere, Maggie?" Too funny.
I purchased noise-cancelling headphones for the flight to the convention this summer. They cost approximately the same as a small sports utility vehicle, but the little airplane we will be flying on is extremely noisy. I worried aloud that Erik won't even wear the headphones, but Brian suggested that if Erik won't wear them, we can wear them instead so we won't have to listen to him screaming. I laughed and imagined myself strapped into my seat holding a glass of wine and watching my Will and Grace box set on Erik's DVD player, smiling pleasantly while he screams bloody murder with his hands clamped over his ears. I think part of the reason I am a little (okay, a lot) off is the upcoming convention. Because we are geographically isolated from the families we know, this is a huge deal for my family. While I am looking forward to going, I will be relieved when it's a memory. I know this year will be the hardest, and once I get it under my belt, I'll be fine. My parents are going to be there, and I will likely get to see my brother and his wife as well. Still, I plan on firing up my margarita machine when I get back and throwing a giant barbecue party. My support group is next Thursday, and I feel a little sick to my stomach about actually talking this time but know it would be good for me.
Erik's physical therapist told my mother that Erik's body was tight this week in the pool. I hate hearing that because it makes me worry. Any physical change in him frightens me. I'm thankful he has PT every week to keep mobile and stretch his body out, but I still fret. I suspect he is growing at light speed again. He doesn't have to stand on his toes to see out my office window anymore. That's new.
Oh, yeah -- The porch is officially open for the season! Even in the rain, there's a dry, relatively dust-free seat ready for you if you want to stop by. I sure could use the company.
That's it for now.