The Fog on Cat's Feet

Fog
By Carl Sandburg

The fog comes
on little cat feet.

It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.

I wasn't expecting this. I wasn't expecting to feel so down, so downtrodden, so sad. I'm sad and I have retreated into myself. Kind of like the fog that comes in on little cat feet, I am currently in a fog of depression. I know this too shall pass. It has to pass because life is ever changing and new opportunities will come about in my lifetime. This isn't it for me, but the past couple of weeks have kind of felt like the end.

I am depressed. I finally admitted it to myself the other night and then to Kev and my mom. Sad. I'm sad. That's why I haven't been around...haven't been talking about alligators and fishes and kitties and all things fabulous about our New Orleans. I could go and say to you all, "Oh, I have been soooooooo busy with my life and adventures, I simply haven't had a chance to sit down and write it all down." Except, that would be a lie.

I haven't written because I haven't had anything but sadness and despair to share, and I didn't want to bring you all down, too. Not fair, I say. Because depression is kind of like a virus, you can catch it from someone. And I didn't want to pass on my germs.

I go through my days and I smile. I smile because, well, my parents spent a lot of money on braces and I better show off those chompers while I still have them in my head. But if you look at my eyes, you can tell.

Kind of like the picture above. Fake smile. Why would I smile in front of a building that sits untouched for 5 years now after Katrina's wrath?

Ironic, I think. And maybe even a little disrespectful. Hey, look at me! I'm standing in front of a dilapidated building where people shared lives and happiness and joy and sorrow. Now, just sorrow.

Lots of things have changed for me in the past month. I lost someone whom I thought was a best friend. Not anymore. Not besties, not important. Just life. I have been down this road before with said former best friend and I have come to the realization that I am exhausted with caring. But care, I do. I do care about this person and it is upsetting that this person does not return the same love and admiration that I have for them. Age. I'm chalking it up to age and maturity and said individuals need to go and explore life and have adventures on their own. C'est la vie!

I will get past this, this fog of depression. It's more than just losing a friend. It's life. It's not getting to sleep next to my husband for two weeks out of the month. It's being on his crazy schedule and my schedule at the same time. I feel like I am going 24/7 and something big has to change. I love my life here in the city, but to live here is a completely different experience than just visiting.

So, here I stand. Putting on a fake smile in front of a dilapidated building and foraging on. Moving on and working very hard to be happy. Good things come to good people and I don't think the Universe intends depression to be a state of existence forever.

So, thank you dear Scott for calling me on my b.s. and wanting more Monkey Heart writings. You touched me with your comment today and I am going to try and be better about writing. Writing is therapeutic and if you guys can put up with a little sadness, I will continue to write. I'll get past this, one word at a time.

xoxo