Making sense

Anne Lamott, on writing ...

"We are a species that needs and wants to understand who we are. Sheep lice do not seem to share this longing, which is one reason why they write so little. But we do. We have so much we want to say and figure out.”

Thursday, June 28, 2012


Depression sucks.
Sucks my energy; sucks my creativity; sucks my optimism.
It is a heavy, burdensome weight; I slog rather than walk; I move in slow motion.
Sleep, sleep, sleep: I could sleep all day. Languish on the couch, humming in low tones.
(How did it get to be 2 p.m.? I have done nothing all day but lie on the couch.)
"Your eyes look tired," my husband tells me, this evening, as we sit in the living room.
No shit, I think.
Thank you for noticing.


Jo Annette said...

Shit. I really didn't think I was depressed. Just stuck. But you just wrote about my daily routine, so maybe I am. Hell, I don't know.

Kathleen said...

Hi, Jo ~
Just now reading your comment.
We MUST get together soon. When will you be in KC again?
Do your folks still live in town?
Hoping to hear from you.