a Scarlet D

I’m seeing this psychologist who is taking me through a ten module program of Positive Affect Treatment (PAT). The idea is that we normally attack the bad problems of depression, but this program tries to highlight the good elements of your life, highlight them for you and help you be happier than ever before. I get it, I suppose it makes sense. I think it’s probably better for people with lighter depression.

The homework for the week was to do something that made you happy. I chose “be in nature” or something like that. I translated this to be a walk to Nicollet Island and walk the loop there. It’s awfully green. I was feeling like I should change plans again so I switched to the Stone Arch Bridge. I hadn’t been on it since it reopened last year. Construction and such,.

Off I trundled, unshowered and unmotivated. I did enjoy walking down main street – one of the first streets in Minneapolis, and home to much of the river’s history. I passed the movie theater – I was a member there once, but let it lapse because I wasn’t going to movies. Passed the overwhelmingly overpriced coffee shop. It has so much comfortable seating, but drink sizes and too small and too expensive. I went on a first date there once, we talked for so long. She was a doctor, smart and funny. We ended up going on 3 or more dates, but then she found “Mr. Right” and it was over. Looking back, it was after I explained my VNS. Won’t do that again until the honeymoon.

Walking Main street was interesting as usual. Eventually I got to the park on my side of the bridge, and headed out. I only needed to go halfway to get a prime viewing spot. Looking at the uniformity of the falls I was reminded of how much activity used to be down here – so much so that they almost destroyed the falls. If it weren’t for today’s concrete curtain, they would have migrated via erosion up the river, and the whole thing would have crumbled and turned into rapids. I’m torn between having our beautiful, powerful, awe inspiring falls – and having a huge field of rapids. Fascinating.

As I began on the Stone Arch Bridge there were two people stationed at the entrance. I had my unbelievably good sound blocking headphones in, so when it looked like they were waving at me, I waved back and kept going. It struck me how non-mormon and non-missionary they looked. More like super fashionable hippies. Later it occurred to me that maybe I should have let them engage me. What’s the worst that can happen? They convince me to join a cult? Thinking about it,maybe that might not be a bad idea,, Or not.

I spent a long time on the fence rail, thinking and watching. There is always something interesting going on nea the falls. Today it was a Canada Goose. Just swimming around. I pondered life, how hard things are now, and where I fit in the world. If at all. I’m so tired, so sad, and so deep in the hole that it makes everything a task pushing through mud. As I stood there at the rain wondering at the magnificence of the falls, I put my head down on the top of the rail and just let my mind go. The goose, the power plant, the deep green of the trees and undergrowth, and finally the falls. It was a short time of self indulgence, but it felt like a small recharge.

Heading home I took the street directly off the Stone Arch Bridge. For three blocks there are small plinths. One every fifteen feet or so, on both sides of the road. Atop each one is a metal model of a house from the area. They are black and a bit wonky in a caricature style. They have small explanation plaques mentioning the function, location, and interesting facts about the building. Here’s a task for you.- find the one about Pracna on Main and read about the why of it’s existence, Don’t care if you live right here in Minneapolis, or would be flying in from Tokyo or Madagascar, let me know and we’ll go get expensive coffee and I can go on about Minneapolis history. Seriously, I’m a big fan of coffee, and spring is sprunging right now!

By the time I got up to University I was done. Tired and just wanting to be home. I don’t know if it’s my touch of vertigo or just not stepping high enough, but uneven ground it a challenge for me. I stumble and trip and guess I look drink to other people. My imitation of Otis from Andy Griffith was in full force and by the time I got to the flat sidewalks of University, I welcomed the change to flatness. I preordered an iced latte from the chain coffeeshop in our local expensive grocery and breezed right through. I thought about grabbing some groceries, but what’s the point? Anything fresh will rot while I put off eating it, and that’s just defeating.

In my last block before my apartment something happened that hadn’t for a little while. The whole world tipped about 45 degrees to the right. It almost knocked me down, but I managed to keep walking albeit at this huge angle. This was also the part where I start to feel like I’m about to pass out, and I need a chair or bench or something immediately, My greatest fear was poking me in the eye, telling me I was going to pass out and someone was going to call an ambulance, which would land me in. a hospital and really just get super expensive super fast. Luckily, everything passed, the world bounced back that 45 degrees, and I made it home. There is something homey and settling like the smell of our lobby and reception/concierge area. And that welcomed me home today.

So what did I get out of my adventure? The easy (hard) points:

• Tired
• Stressed about passing out
• Continuing to carry my melancholy with me
• Stumbling
• Reminders of places I used to enjoy

The good:

• Seeing the falls
• A goose
• Iced coffee
• History
• The Falls

So maybe it came out as a tie. We’ll see what my therapy dude says.

Side note: Writing this has been painful. I have that feeling I’m moving through mud, and nothing is worth doing.I feel like this a lot these days. Well, most days for the past seven years. It never gets old. I just want to stop typing, or changing the channel, or heaven forbid go to the kitchen for food. It’s like the empty space of the world is fighting me. I don’t mention this to many people because it’s just so often, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it. I guess it’s just my own little lonely malady.