Thanksgiving

To not be depressed, again, pretend you are okay. Buy new makeup. Feel the touch of the lovely young woman who steps out from behind the counter and uses a soft brush to smooth foundation over your face. Listen as she tells you with kindness how important it is to blend with care.  After she puts blush on your cheeks, look in the mirror and feel better.  Accept the samples she gives you.  At home, use a cotton ball to remove the layers of pale brown, of cheerful pink, until you look like you did before, just a little less tired.

Avoid going to therapy. Believe you can afford perfume that makes you want to love yourself again, but therapy is too expensive.

Keep exercising, no matter what. You know how to cope. You know you won’t give in. Crave the shelter of your queen size duvet like you once craved summer. Resist the craving. Remind yourself that the living room catches enough November light that even if your eyes are closed, one speck of encroaching darkness might have been frightened off.

When your back starts to hurt, know whose fault it is. Hear the voice blaming you for exercising when you needed rest. Question its logic. The next day, notice that you think you are in pain because you didn’t do enough.  Crawl under the duvet at noon and prop pillows under your knees. Sleep until you feel like getting up. Be cheerful as you eat the dinner your sweet husband made for you. Go to bed early.  Wake up late.

Decide that you can eat all the sugar you want, then do it.  When you wish you could cry, eat ice cream because for a few minutes, you feel like a normal person.

Let your sleep patterns become Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition. Walk around thinking FUBAR, FUBAR. I am FUBAR.

Cancel plans. Stay home. Ignore texts and emails. Anyone who loves you, really loves you, knows that this happens to you sometimes. Wish it weren’t happening as you avoid people who you now think have no reason to love you.

Wake up early today, feeling something. Stand outside shivering under it all as the blue-greens and purples deepen, as they shift to orange and pale pink. Touch your wet face and feel grateful for a kind of letting go. Remember that crying for yourself and all of your invisible losses–that weeping for the world and all the wasted lives—can be a prayer, too, can be, in fact, a form of thanksgiving.