Yesterday I was walking around Target and noticed a woman click-clacking her way down an aisle dressed in perfectly tanned pumps, neatly pressed skirt and crisp blouse. Honestly, the fashion lover in me wanted to chase her down and compliment her use of bright colors and toning things down with nude-colored heels. After checking my phone for the time, I mentally confirmed that she had to be on her lunch hour, which involved her to arrive at Target with a shopping basket hanging on the crook of her elbow for a few much-needed items. She walked with great purpose and confidence, click-clacking toward the registers.
Then there was moi, hiding behind the rack of 70% off clothing, most of which were the ugliest articles of mismatched two-piece swim suits. My once-black New Balance sneakers now a faded dark grey, one of my holey black tee shirts (hence, the need to buy new clothing) and face sporting no makeup and hair that probably deserved to have a brush run through it a few times.
I could not help but wonder if that woman had “it all together.” She sure as hell looked as if she did, at lease on the outside. On the inside, she might be battling some serious mental shit. Maybe after she makes her purchase, she reenters the parking lot of her office, turns off the engine and breaks down in tears because something is on her mind. Maybe after ten minutes, she wipes her face clean with her finger tips, looks into the rearview mirror to touch up her mascara. After a deep breath and a self-assuring “You can do this,” she goes back to work to finish off the afternoon.
On my outside, I look as if I am the poster girl of giving up. I also feel as if I’ve given up. I ended up at Target only because my brain processed this as the best place to go to for a change of scenery. I have been feeling very lost and confused, curious if my present efforts will prove to be fruitful.
There are places I want to be at, milestones I’m striving to reach—and I’m questioning each and every move I make—while gingerly grinning through each day as a ploy to hold back any sort of tear-filled meltdown.
Depression or just in a funk? I don’t quite know.
So back to the woman at Target: Maybe she’s good at hiding what’s bothering her, and maybe my unkempt look screams something different. Either way you slice it, everyone is goes through tough times in their lives.
*Note: Since the passing of Robin Williams, there has been an increase of suicide awareness and depression essays cropping up around the web. This blog’s stats have also showed an increase of readership scouring some of my posts of about entrepreneurs and depression, so with that, I will be adding more posts about depression and being in a funk. If I could lend a voice to anyone of perspective out there, I would be happy to help.
Image source: Check out Jodie Dee McGuire’s brilliant Blythe photos here, via Flickr