getting out of dodge

For anyone who has the blues, may I suggest a little more green.

Last summer, I got really depressed.  I don't want to dwell on it.  It doesn't really make sense to me yet.  Well, it sort of does, and it sort of doesn't.  You know how it goes.  But I'm a fighter, so between crying jags, I started making a mental list of all of the disappointments that seemed to be taking over my thinking.  My goal wasn't to dwell, but rather to sort.  There are things we can change quickly, and things that take time.  When someone is depressed, they need to focus initially on the things they can change quickly, things that, once addressed, might help moderate their mood enough so that they can adopt a more healthy perspective on the stuff that's going to take time. 

My depression was characterized by sense of loss.  All these experiences that I started thinking I might never have.  Before I knew it, the list was really long.  I felt like my life, or at least the life I dreamed of, had sort of slipped away.  I knew cerebrally that my life was actually in full swing.  I did the whole "evidence for/evidence against" exercise and could see that  things were very, very good.  But the feeling of dread was still there.  The feeling that nothing would ever change.  That I'd just sort of float through life without really loving it.

And I started thinking about what I wanted and what I could get and how I could get it.  Hence, the sort.  Now, to be honest, most of my woes went into the "No Freaking Clue How That's Going to Happen" pile.  Many of those items are still there (I'm just a little more at peace about them now). 

And then there was Ireland.

I have always loved the idea of Ireland.  I can't explain it.  Everyone wants to see Paris or Rome.  I wanted to see cobbled stone walls lining narrow roads, sheep everywhere, and really old abbeys.  I wanted to listen to people talk like leprechauns.  I wanted to walk and walk and walk through Irish countryside.  And meet a boy named Declan.

"No Freaking Clue" could not claim Ireland.

So I bought my ticket and went.  By myself.  I rented a car and got three flats in one day while driving though breathtaking, yet perilous Irish hills on St. Patrick's Day.

And I was saved by a boy named Declan.

There's more, of course.  But the really important thing was that I went and loved it and I came back feeling changed.  Not just recharged.  That's what I lot of people want from a vacation, to feel recharged.  I wanted more than recharged.  And I think I got it.  I've thrown away the "No Freaking Clue" list.  It's a downer.  The other list is getting longer.  It's just called The List.  No need for fanfare. 

Next stop: Sedona and the Grand Canyon.