An afternoon spent under the duvet was the result of a morning spent running. I ran, not as far as other long distance runs, but I did my best and pushed my body as hard as it would go considering the extent my body was paralysed from the temporary mind shit of this NOT-Good Friday.
I tried to sweat it all out. “It” being emotion….The emotion did bulge out of my pores for sure. I know that as I felt it, and tried hard to not cry till I got home….Before my run I had wondered if tears would flow as I ran, but my face ended up being covered only in salty sweat, rather than salty tears.
I looked at my red face in the selfie I automatically took after my run, as I do after every run so I can remember my continued effort in training. I didn’t post it online this time…I just stared vacantly into it. It’s always the eyes I focus on in any snapshot.
I look to see if they are ill eyes or well eyes.
I look for eye signage…indicators of relative emotional wellness…
Do you remember that universal indicator paper in science lessons? (unsure of name)…you’d pop a strip in liquid and see by the colour whether the liquid was acidic, alkaline or neutral.
I do that analysis with my eyes, except there is no dipping of paper into liquids and I measure by perceived visible weight more than anything else. My scientific observation methods are far less standardised and quantifiable. I judge simply by looking, staring and wondering a bit in my head. I look at the way my facial skin seems to sag more when I’m heavy and weighed down with any emotion of the negative variety.
Does negative emotion have a weight? I’d say it does.
When the human body dies, 21grams of weight is lost at the point of death. That is the soul leaving the body, so they say.
So what the fuck does depressed mood weigh then? because I’m sure it actually adds physical weight to me, even to a feature so tiny as how the skin round my eyes seems to hang heavier and more slumped than when I’m in an ok or happy mood.
Is depressed mood a weight thing? It sure feels like it is. On a happy day when I run, I feel thinner afterwards. Today I feel fat despite my run. I feel fat and heavy and wide. My whole body image is perceptually distorted. Is that what makes my eyes feel heavier? Or are they really heavier?
I am fat cumbersome and heavy in face and body today…and I see that especially round my eyes.
They say eyes can be blood shot…what about depressed mood causing blood clots?
Sorry for the unexpected health diversion. On an aside, I am obsessed today with thoughts of death and dying without actually wanting to die. It’s a bizarre symptom I have. A fixation about death and decay and bodies. It’s not something I’d recommend. It feels horrible. It’s just a thing I often get preoccupied about on bad days….
Y’know…the usual depressed type mood stuffs.
I am weighed down with self-hatred today. I want to swear at myself and beat myself up. There are things on my mind, many of them, but for once they are not to be blogged about. Sometimes I rebel against blogging about everything personal. Sometimes, like any artist, you will paint a picture of a selected thing and ignore everything on the periphery….
A landscape painter cannot paint the whole sky. A portrait artist rarely paints you from head to toe…they will focus on whatever aspect they choose. That is the artists way.
For me, my focus today is the sadness of my drooping eyelids, which create a visual impression of my eyes being half closed; also the pronounced bags under my eyes, the un-pencilled in eyebrows with stray eyebrow hairs dotting my skin above that I couldn’t be arsed to pluck out.
I don’t want to write about the origin of the heaviness. I’m just acknowledging that there is where I’m at today. Probably a post-media campaign slump. It’ll pass. It always does.
I am ME, no matter the heaviness of my eyelids, whether my eyebrows are pencilled in or not, or how humongous the bags are underneath them.
But the feeling of heaviness in mind and body sucks.
The heaviness I believe is the weight of the pain, and today that pain is evident in those soul windows eyes of mine.
Today I am me, PLUS 21GRAMS of pain, which sets off an equal and opposite morbid fascination with how it might feel to be me, MINUS 21GRAMS of soul.
What would happen to those eyes of mine then?
To be PLUS 21GRAMS (feeling in pain), surely has to be better than being MINUS 21GRAMS, (dead in a coffin)…doesn’t it?
I guess yes is the answer….. but I’m so down that I’ve gone and forgotten the question. Hey ho. Depressed moods suck. To anyone out there feeling depressed today, you have my solidarity.
Here is a 21 gram masterpiece illustrating my wondrous (?) ideas on depression, via the medium of sharpie scribbles and stick people…it’s a new art form.