* Within my budget
Yesterday I took R to the actual mall to buy new shoes for school. Pro tip: if the mall parking lot is so crowded that multiple cars are illegally parked on grassy verges and over curbs, you’re not going to like the lines or the crowds.
But we persevered, because he leaves on Saturday (!!!) and eventually wound up with two pairs of Vans shoes, one a subdued gray and the other black with a blue pattern. They’re very nice and quite R-appropriate. I did decide, however, that since I was surviving a situation which is pretty high on my personal list of nightmares, I deserved a present for myself. A cheap present. Something fun. And/or something useful, but if useful, still cheap.
As we wandered the mall, I considered my options. No, no, no, no. Too expensive, not fun enough, too unnecessary, too wasteful, not fun enough. I considered some soft t-shirts for a while. I could use a few new t-shirts. But I could tell that they were the kind that would wear really quickly–worn for a summer and then good-bye, and even at $15 for 2, I didn’t think they were worth it.
On the way out of the mall, I felt sad. Sadder, I guess. Robin Williams’ death hit me hard. To have someone so successful, so gifted, so loved, lose the fight to depression is heartbreaking. But it’s also frightening. If, with everything he had, he couldn’t make it out of the black hole, will my hole someday be that deep? (My psychiatrist, incidentally, promises me no, and I take her at her word. Well, to the best of my ability, I take her at her word.)
Addicts probably felt the same way about Philip Seymour Hoffman’s death. And I know, #depressionlies. Also depression hurts, also depression comes back, also depression kills. People diagnosed with bi-polar disorder get 9 years knocked off their life expectancy and not just because of the risk of suicide, but also because of higher rates of every kind of health misery. (I remind myself of this every time I worry about the fact that I’m using up my retirement savings trying to be a writer. It matters less for me because I’m likely to have a short retirement at best, ha.)
Although lord, I really hate the people who say, “he’s in a better place.” Talk about making suicide tempting! Seriously, what’s up with that? During my earliest suicidal periods, the risk of burning in hell for eternity was a thread that tied me here. I’m not going to say it kept me alive, but if I’d thought suicide was a shortcut to heaven… well, that wouldn’t have been good for me.
But I have now seriously digressed from my story. I was sad. So I started thinking about what single object–within my extremely limited budget–could possibly make me happy? Store after store after store in the mall, all of them filled with stuff, and what object would make me happy?
I was almost out of the mall when I thought of the answer.
Zelda has owned this duck for at least eight years. When a visitor comes over, she brings the duck out to the living room and offers it to them. At night-time, she searches for it. When we were on vacation, the first night she tried very intently, repeatedly, to tell me something and I finally figured out that I’d forgotten to bring her duck. Two nights ago, it was shut in the wrong room at bedtime and I had to disturb R after he’d gone to bed to retrieve it in order to get Zelda to relax. She always sleeps with it, generally after licking it for a while.
And it’s wearing out in a big way. I’ve sewed it up several times. One wing is half-chewed and both wings are held on by replacement thread. The beak’s missing, the head wobbles. It is as well-loved as any kid’s teddy or blankie. There is no way it can ever be replaced. But! The most fun object in my universe, within my budget, is definitely another duck for Zelda. So I came home and splurged and bought this plump duck. It arrives tomorrow (with some squeaky chipmunks for Bartleby and Macie, because I can’t buy one dog a toy and not give the others something) and I am so, so, so glad that the universe contains dogs and dog toys and dog love.
I have two rescues dogs, in a long history of rescuing dogs, only one likes toys. Lily now has about 15 stuffed toys, which I trip over constantly. Love Walmart because they were only about $3 each. Brightens my day. Just finished reading all your books. Can’t wait for the next one.
Bartleby won’t play with toys either, but I like giving them to him and giving him a chance to try. And Macie is toy destructor extraordinaire–those chipmunks are doomed. I usually do the $3 toys, too (Big Lots sometimes has even better prices) but Macie kills them quickly. I’m hoping that the plump duck will be more like Zelda’s original duck, which has lasted forever.
I’m glad you liked the books! Thanks for reading!!
Stupid freaking stupid freaking cyber space just ate my comment. I’ll try again.
Robin Williams depressed state may have been worsened by the full super moon. The moon is strong enough to drive the tides so it’s only logical it would effect us, who are largely water. I don’t know if it might ease minds to remember to be careful around the full moon when depressed or not but it’s worth keeping the knowledge out there if it helps anyone.
Love the new duck. Glad you had fun finding him / her. Hope all the dogs have fun that is meaningful to them* and you with their new toys.
*(Not a big fan of Louise Haye but I do like her affirmation about letting go or accepting people by leaving them to happiness that is meaningful to them. I paraphrased probably badly.)
My spam filter caught the comment, because you weren’t logged in. Sorry about that! I’d get rid of it if I could, but spam outnumbers real comments by about 4 to 1 so it would mean lots of junk showing up in my comments section. And yeah, I saw that about the moon. Statistically speaking, though, people with bi-polar disorder have about a 15-20% suicide rate–it’s our number one cause of premature death. As death rates go, it’s a deadlier illness than many types of cancer. The moon, the weather, vitamin D deficiency, a bad day at work, a cancelled television series–there are lots of potential factors, but mostly it’s just an exhausting, chronic illness that saps people’s spirits. I don’t suppose we’ll ever know what Robin Williams was thinking, but if he could have openly checked into a psychiatric hospital for depression instead of going into “rehab” a few weeks back with all the accompanying press, maybe he’d be alive today. Only maybe, though.
On the RW thing – the Bloggess did a very short post referring to her old post about the moons effect on depression. We were just in a super moon. Not to diminish his depression but that probably made it worse. It amazes me that people want to deny the moons effect on us. The moons pull is powerful enough to drive the tides and we are in large part, water.
That duck looks awesome. Glad you had fun finding it for Zelda.