So, I haven’t written in this blog for two months. I have a good reason. I was depressed. I am depressed. I hope that soon I will not be depressed.
I’ve been on temporary disability since June. You’d think I’d be writing about this experience “as it happens,” but I haven’t been interested chronicling anything. There are still a few things I can force myself to write. That’s another blog entry for another day. I have not been writing, I have not been reading books. It’s been summer, and I wasn’t even eating peaches.
More than one doctor has told me that I’m not getting better. More than one doctor has advised me to enter a day program for adults with severe depression. My only other option is ECT (electro-convulsive therapy.) I reject ECT. I choose hard work and therapy, neither of which is a favorite.
I had my intake at the hospital today. I start the program on Monday. I’ll be writing about it here. I’m ready to talk about depression.
Earlier today, I thought it might be a good idea to read the papers I signed last week at the hospital. I sat down with a cold glass of Gatorade, and readied myself for some serious legal obfuscation. Just as my eyelids started to blink their way to slumberland, my eye caught on the word “provocative.” That woke me. Was there something unusual about my treatment? I read the whole sentence and discovered that we were being asked not to wear provocative clothing at the hospital.
Given that we’re going to be traipsing in and out of the hallways of a mental hospital, this is probably very good advice. This hospital treats some tragically ill people. Some of them are ambulatory. As sick as I am, I don’t live in the same universe as these residents, thank goodness. I’m “just depressed.” I’ve seen enough of severe illness firsthand to know enough to leave my Donna Karan shiny, black mini-skirt and fishnets at home. Because you never know who’s going to join you for lunch in the cafeteria.
Let’s say this was pre-Ms. Magazine and leave it at that.
“No, dear. That is not at all what I meant. I detest male-bashing. I meant equal pay for equal work & that means for men as well as women. I mean everyone, men and women, should have reproductive rights. Feminism could have been the great equalizer, but it was hijacked and misrepresented by so many men and women, it’s become a derogatory term. I’m proud to be a feminist. I’m not proud of the women and men who think feminism is a license to be abusive towards men.”
My answer to someone equating Feminism with Male-Bashing just happens to be my definition of Feminism.
It’s my blog so I figure it’s OK to quote myself. I promise I won’t do it often.