Experimentation

If we knew what it was we were doing, it would not be called research, would it?

--Albert Einstein

Lately (well for a couple of months now), I've been in a state of experimentation. Every morning, I study the idea of getting out of bed. I don't go blindly into the experiment. I don't believe in running about willy nilly (as they'd say) and jumping off of cliffs without ropes on the chance that someone will catch me. No, I weigh it out, pros/cons, factor in the possible outcomes, and what I learned when I performed the experiment the day before (hence the Einstein quote above.)

See, I've been depressed. Now, that's not a diagnosis, just a knowledge that I have. And every day, simply opening my eyes is an experiment in living. I've not gotten so low as to not want to extend the experiment for a long while, but I have wondered about bothering with that day. Yesterday was like that. I got out of bed, had some coffee, walked The WonderDog, checked email and went back to bed. It was mid-afternoon before I bothered dressing and running to the store for food (yes, the grocery fairy had skipped me again. I guess I need to talk to her boss.). I had plans last night, but I begged off. I couldn't convince myself to risk leaving the house again. I really hate that.

What gets me up is knowing I have to go to work. I enjoy my work, so I often forget I'm experimenting. But then I come home, put on my pjs and go to bed. At 5 pm. The poor WonderDog hates it. I don't play, I don't love on him. He's his own island. Not good for a puppy dog. But he's been good, he tries so hard to take care of me, resigning himself to sleep all day on a pretty Saturday, rather than play in the yard.

Now, I know that some of what I've said (i.e. opening my eyes is an experiment in living) is really a commentary of the human condition and life anyway. But I also know that I've never felt like that before. I've felt listless before, but never felt like faking it was so exhausting (and, some days, so pointless). There's a part of me that wonders if I shouldn't go find some tools until I get back on my feet, and off of my face, but I can't even start entertaining that notion right now. It means leaving the house for something other than a dire necessity or work.

And you know what really hurts? The people who I think know me best have no idea. I'm not sure if that's a sign of amazing coping/acting skills or if that means they don't really know me.

For more thoughts on experimenting and experimentation, visit Sunday Scribblings this week.

A challenge...and something to think about...

I recently read an article in the Houston Chronicle that talked about a project over at Smith magazine. Check out the "Six Word Memoirs" projects.

So..what's your life story? In six words..

I came. I saw. I loved.

I don't know, who am I?

Share it over at Smith..but share it here, too.

Where Breathing is Enough

Bustling about
One foot in front of the other, in front of the other,
infrontoftheother, infrontoftheother.

The world spinning me into madness,
being pulled in a dozen directions would be easier
than what I'm doing all day long.

In a blink, open the door,
step into the simple life with you.
Where breathing is enough.