Perhaps I need to rethink this “brilliant writing career” I keep saying that I want.
Guess where I am?
And guess what I have with me: ANTIDEPRESSANTS.
Right after I wrote my last post (wherein I realized that the grieving had tipped over into a real depression) I saw my regular doctor and she put me back on Wellbutrin and Zoloft, albeit at much lower doses than I was on previously. THANK GOD. Within a few days I was feeling so much better — able to get out of bed without having to talk myself into it for two hours, renewed interest in bathing, drastic reduction in the constant sobbing.
I’m still sad, mind you, but the doom and gloom and utter “what’s the point of living”-ness of depression is pretty much gone.
Being here is bittersweet. I love it here and I love being near (or in) the ocean every day and I love the people here. And it’s my Mom’s house, her art is everywhere (I mean, the HOUSE itself is a work of art — seriously, I will post pictures) and her friends are here and I miss my Mom and I feel like an imposter living her life, in her house, in her town, with her friends.
The memories are amazing though. So many good times here with her. So many beach days — sunning or scavenging beach trash which she would then effortlessly turn into art-thingies. So many evenings under the stars. Dancing to ABBA with the girls in the kitchen. Puzzling over how to get things done in Mexico (FYI – the answer is usually “flag down the truck”). Chasing the dulce cart around town.
(Have I mentioned that my sweet (petite) Mom could pull off gauze harem pants? They are awful. I’m going to try to talk my sassy Virgo sister into wearing them out in public when she is here next week — Ha!)
We are having a non-memorial-service party for Mom here in Puerto Morelos on February 4. Quite a few family members are flying in and there is a whole community of people here who knew and loved Mom, so it should be a fairly large celebration. Lots of color, food and we (read: my sassy Virgo sister) got those Japanese wish lanterns to release at night off the beach. I guess I should get started figuring out exactly what to serve? Manana…
Here’s what else: I’m almost 47 – WTF? And my blog is almost ONE! Which also means that the Moratorium (with which I’ve substantially complied) is almost over.
Whatever will I do….? 😉
p.s. I don’t really have a “p.s.” this time, but it’s tradition, so……..
p.s.s. OH wait – the house is falling apart — which means that I have to spend an inordinate amount of time tracking down someone to make the various repairs, then harass that person until the repairs are made and then (usually) pay that person more than I think is fair for the work — all of which makes me a cranky gringa. Which makes me want to call my blog “Cranky Gringa”! Except I’m still partial to “Crankylicious” — thoughts? INSERT MAGICAL LEGAL WORDS TO PROTECT MY AMAZING INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY HERE!