The words have started falling out of my head again.
Simple words, like "book" or "forms" or "card."
I end up playing charades with whomever I am speaking with until one of us finally guesses the answer.
So, I haven't written in a couple of days.
When this word retrieval problem happened during a talk with my therapist I said, "No! Not the words!"
Suddenly my eyes filled with tears.
Losing words--not having easy access to the dictionary in my head--scares me to death. Words were my first palette. Even in painting, I describe the subject verbally in my mind before I express that story in shapes and colors.
I know word retrieval trouble is a common experience, people occasionally get distracted and lose their thought, sometimes even in the middle of a sentence. I am sure it happened to me now and then when I was in remission or whatever it's called. Probably it even happened before I ever got depressed (and the first serious depression was probably in high school).
Think of being fluent in a second language and then visiting a place where that language is the people's native tongue. Despite having achieved "fluency" there might be times when a simple word like "bathroom" alludes you. Imagine the urgency of needing to find the bathroom and having no way of communicating that word to your listener. What would you do with your hands to indicate bathroom?
If depression jails me in darkness, if one of the pills in my army of medication sneaks me away from the prison toward the light but only in exchange for words which jail do I choose?
Right now, I am stuck in the middle of the tunnel. I've seen glimmers of that cheerful light, but already paid some of the extortion.
What's in the cheerful light?
Yesterday we ate at Urban Solace and then saw Jumpers with Brandon and Oakley. I had a grilled cheese sandwich and creamy tomato soup.
Mozzarella, Wisconsin white cheddar and two others whose names I forget but which tasted divine. One of them was that melty cheese people might use for fondue, but which when sliced and included in a grilled cheese sandwich simply holds everything together and doesn't get all the way to dipping-quality. Another was something like blue cheese, but better.
"This is an orgasmically good grilled cheese sandwich."
One of the boys: "We'll have to remember that..." perhaps missing the When Harry Met Sally reference.
It turns out that a lot of Jumpers is shot in Rome, in the Coliseum. Of course as soon as they mentioned Rome I leaned over to Justin and very quietly squealed. Then, during the Roman scenes, I planned my photographs. I can't wait to be in Europe with my camera!
Never once during the movie did my heart drop to depression.
Afterward, we went to Bluefoot to hang out and talk some more. Against my doctors' orders I had a Snakebite, but really one 1/2 pear cider and 1/2 Guinness is going to ruin everything? It's not like I was self-medicating, I was already feeling fine, I just like the taste. Is that wrong?
Anyway, Oakley and I talked about planning European travels. She's never been there (surprised me!), and she "used to plan it around buildings, but now [she] would plan it around food."
She's a real foodie. She cooks, she can taste food and decipher the spices, she blogs about it.
"Japanese food is so delicate. I love Italian food!"
"What's delicate about Japanese food, besides sushi?"
"It's hard to cook. You have to be so careful with the spices and the soy sauce; I'm always scared when I cook it. But Italian food is so fun! It's hearty. You just throw things in there. More garlic! More tomato! You can't hurt it." She pantomimed the kitchen experience, this tiny Thai girl perched on a bar stool, drinking a Guinness and so excited about cooking I almost wanted to try doing it.
"I want to go to Tuscany and Florence and Venice and Rome and try all the food.
"I want to go to Sicily and eat the island!"