Don't despair, not even over the fact that you don't despair. (Kafka)

.....I have one loyal soul writing most of the comments on my blog posts these days who has stated publically on this journal that she is suffering from "clinical depression".  How that differs from plain old depression or Post Traumatic Depression (PTSD) I can't say because I only have a Ph.D. in education, and not an MD-- as in charging for 30 second hospital visits.  I only know that I have been dealing with depression since I was nine years old.  Before that, I was only eight years old and had no idea what the hell was happening around me, and all I ever wanted was ice cream, candy, and fireworks. But at nine, I was definitely depressed as I watched my mother administering morphine shots to my father who was a triple amputee as a result of his experiences in WWI.  This went on every day until my dad died at the age of 33 when I was nine.  At that point,  we were as poor as anyone could be in the Great Depression.  Even poorer than the Okies in Steinbeck's "The Grapes of Wrath".  And so my mother, my sister, and I had to move from Long Branch--by the Jersey shore--to my maternal grandparents' apartment in the cockroach infested apartment in the Bronx--where I learned how to be even more depressed. 

.....But as life goes on, and you remain vertical, you learn to fight off the "slings and arrows".  For example: All of my friends are gone, and I haven't even one "friend" here in South Florida.  Oh, I do have some fine acquaintances who I see once in a while, but no one that I see on a daily basis to converse with, to argue with, to go to lunch with. That's depressing.  However, when I'm feeling sorry for that and for other things I won't go into, I think of all the good things I've had and have now in my life.  I have Robin, Joel, Bobby, and Bonny--four children all of whom have made a very good life for themselves.  I have RH+ without whom I would suffer PTSD to the nth degree.  She said not to worry--that women would flock around me with casseroles.  Yeah, right.  Walking with a walker is also depressing, but then I realize that I'm still alive to push it around.  So, cuzzin Ruthie, balance the depression with realizing the blessings you have. 

.....I haven't written about another theme which adds up to ten, so in this post, I'll list the ten depressing things that I suffer at times.  1) People in a restaurant table near me who talk on their cell phones loud enough so that you are forced to listen to events in their private lives. 2) Children who do not remove their eyes from their I-pads or whatever during the whole day, but especially in a restaurant with their parents who ought to have banned it. Very depressing. 3) People who fail to use their signals when turning with their expensive autos and keep you guessing about what they are going to do. 4) Having your steak brought to you well-done when you ordered it medium rare and you have to send it back.  Now you have to wait for it again, meanwhile finishing your lemonade. 5) Hearing a beep on the phone while you're talking to someone and not knowing which button to push to access the "call waiting" and worrying about losing the person you were talking to in the first place. 6) When you're ready to get into bed and you realize that you have forgotten to take your afternoon pills and worrying about the effect that might have on your plan to be the oldest living WWII veteran. Depressing...definitely. 7) Getting a $25 charge on your checking account because you don't have enough money in the bank to cover a check you have written. 8) Not knowing any depressing things in order to cover 9) and 10). Very depressing.

.....I know I haven't written a post on this blog for a number of days, so this one appears to be long enough to bore my readers...or my reader.  Depressing.