Burying the lead

The term “bury the lead” comes from journalism. In a news story, the “lead” is the first sentence, which concisely conveys the main point of the story. A story with a buried lead begins with the secondary details, forcing the reader to continue reading to discover its main point.

I got a pamphlet from the local Jehovah’s yesterday.  As I find most religious pamphlets either offensive or comical, I general read them.   This one skewed heavily towards the latter sensibility.  You see, per this pamphlet, Jesus was a zombie. 

It should be noted that the zombification of Jesus wasn't an explicit statement, but neither was it far from it.  The entire pamphlet’s focus was on ‘raising the dead’ and how there are at least “8 instances of such” in the bible (one of which was Jesus).  By utilizing the power of transference (and magical thinking), if it happened before, it can happen again.  Following this line of logic, it states that you might be able to raise your dead relatives, presumably by wandering around neighborhoods handing out pamphlets (speaking of which, what is the conversion rate for this practice?  Most people I know are pretty horrified by the idea of even opening the door for Jehovah’s, let alone discussing their religious preferences with them.  Would it completely freak them out if you flung open the door, shouted “Let’s get our Jesus on!” and asked them what it entails to convert?).  At any rate, I am not sure what their actual point is, or if they were just aiming for that coveted target demographic of 18-29 year old zombie loving males (don’t believe me?  Check out the ratings for the Walking Dead), but I am all-in!  We can talk about it further when I show up at your door next Saturday morning, pamphlet in hand. 

I struggle with depression.  Struggle is probably the most opportune word.  As such, I know I am also stating that those around me struggle with it too because they have to deal with me.  I used to believe it was seasonal affective disorder and, honestly, that undoubtedly remains a factor.  I know that I feel worse when the sun sets before I leave for work and its visits during the day are, at best, irregular and often short lived.  But more and more I am seeing it as an extension of a more general all-consuming sort of depression: A straight up chemical imbalance.  So, the season change is more akin to making someone with a broken leg walk a mile……and then changing it to a mile up a hill: They are both difficult, but one is surely more so. 

The signs are all there.  The days are becoming a faded facsimile of one another.  I am having a harder time recalling the vague differences between Mondays and Thursdays.  Weekends seem like a desert mirage upon approach and a fading dream by Monday morning.  Sleep is only partially restive and often, while I am definitively not sleepy, I feel groggy and tired.  No amount of sleep seems to correct this. 

Work actually proves therapeutic in some regard because I can ‘put on my professional mask’ and be someone else.  I am not the depressed dad/husband; I am the capable IV nurse.  But I am having a harder time with that as well.  Wearing that mask is exhausting and I have less and less reserve. 

I actively debate taking a leave of absence, but I remain unsure if that will prove advantageous, or rob me of another little bit of who I am.  I wonder if I am not forced to be the person I am at work, will I just drift into being who I am away from it all the time?  Plus, as I am actively seeking out opportunities to bring me into a better/different position, I feel that kind of statement isn’t going to be helpful.  It is one thing to announce to friends and family, quite another to write on your shirt and parade about the hallways. 

Of course, most disappointingly, I wonder how this affects Tia and Q.  I worry about putting an undue burden on Tia’s shoulders, as I feel like she is involved in a greater and greater percentage of Quinn’s time/care as I, turtle like, retreat further into my shell.  I wonder if Q senses my lack of patience, my desire to be by myself, and the frustrations I have with him that are really frustrations at myself for not being more able to accept the mutable moods and manic behaviors of a toddler.  I hope they both know I love them dearly even when it is hard to feel much of anything at all. 

As for what to do, well we shall see what the doc offers up for ideas in a few weeks.  Until then, wait.  

If you want to read more about it from someone who explains it a whole lot better (and with illustrations) check out Hyperbole and a Half