Bottom of a Pool

I’ve forgotten about the beauty in the world, most of my days are occupied with things that range from frustrating to ugly.  This doesn’t mean I don’t get the beginnings of a smile while I’m watching someone push their child around in a stroller or appreciate the sight of an elderly couple walking hand in hand down some random street.  The rose colored glasses are sitting in a drawer back at my house, hidden behind the spare keys to the neighbor’s house and a couple of coupons for groceries.

There are plenty of people who can understand getting the blues from time to time.  That feeling where you just don’t find the world to be a happy, happy joyful place.  For someone you suffers from depression, it’s like looking up from the bottom of the pool.  The objects are blurry around the edges and sometimes you can’t tell if they’re waving at you or pointing at a unicorn floating above the house.  A general numbness that gets to you in ways that you don’t recognize until another says something to you.

When the best efforts of a 14 year old and her friends to include you only render a momentary grin and then back to whatever is weighing down on me at that moment, that’s horrible.  The best I was able to muster was kissing her on the back of her head and going back to my paperwork.  I’m not even sure I was able to smile when I was presented my favorite breakfast food on the planet, Cranberry Orange Muffins.  Homemade and almost as good as any bakery I have ever been.  That actually brings some moisture to the corners!

A couple of days ago I was looking through the collection of pictures my father had added to the server at home.  Photos of Christmas where I’m holding my god-daughter for the first time.  She was all of 7 weeks old, not a single smile on my face in any of the pictures.  My brain was trapped in memories of another person and not in the moment.  At some time she is going to see these and wonder if I was happy to even meet her.  6 months later, I can’t answer that question for myself.

Whenever I’ve needed to let out the emotions I have put one of two things in the DVD/Bluray/VCR/Netflix queue – Creator starring Peter O’Toole or Brian’s Song [the version from 1971 with James Caan and Billy-Dee Williams].  One is about the hope of recreating a lost love and learning to recognize the love in front of you.  [it also has what the ex used to refer to as the most awkward man hug you will ever experience!]  The other about the love of two guys, not the Broke Back Mountain variety, but learning how to be there for someone when life is a battle.  It’s impossible for a guy to get through it without welling up in some manner.  So much worse when you learn that Brian was a real person and this was his story.

I tried to watch the later, I needed to force out some emotions.  Nothing.  I want to see the beauty again.  I just don’t know when that will happen.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Moved to Tears.”


One thought on “Bottom of a Pool

  1. Pingback: Moved to Tears by “The Artist” (2011) | Ramisa the Authoress

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