Tropical depression
Interesting to read this article about our mental state as a community these days. It’s pretty easy to see, actually.
I know in our little one-block area of the Irish Channel, one neighbor has moved away and another has been gone for a good long time, due largely to depression. I talked to one just the other day (the one who’s coming back later this month) and she apologized for not returning my earlier call. She said, “it’s just so depressing” to talk about what’s going on with her own (damaged) house and to read and hear about the things going on (and largely not going on) in New Orleans these days. But, to her credit, she says she needs to come back to fight it and get with the program. Or at least try.
I truly believe New Orleans is the most medicated town in the world these days –and it’s not always with something you can go pick up at Walgreen’s. Between the liquor and the levees, the wine and the wind damage and the pot and the potholes, lots of folks are insulating themselves from the day-to-day unchangingness. You actually get out to make an effort to clean things up, then some neighbor guts their house and you’ve got yet another giant pile of crap put on the curb and it’s going to sit there for three months — just like the last one and the one before that. Someone finally opens or reopens a new place, but a corresponding one has to close or the owner has simply had enough and is getting out. Over and over again.
We’re seeing plenty of people fighting through the haze and finally getting motivated again. But, on the other hand, there are those who come through the fog and wonder why they’ve fought it this long. We’ve become our own group counseling session — standing on street corners, drinks in hand, discussing How Thangs Is and deciding whether to be stayers or goers. Those of us who decide to stay are badly needing help in getting up the testicular fortitude to keep going — while those who are going badly need help in finally breaking the tie and simply moving on without feeling they’ve somehow failed.
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So true. The depression is widespread and comes and goes in waves. My commute takes me thru Irish Bayou in N.O. East and Slidell’s south shore. Some days the sights give us a high, when we see a business or home in the process of being rebuilt. Other days the slow recovery brings us back down into the doldrums.
I hope this hurricane season is good to us.
Most of us in New Orleans are riding an emotional roller coaster. I see this in myself… some days I walk the neighborhoods talking with folks, and other days I won’t leave the shelter of our rental house.
This is not like me. My emotions can change in a split second. Anger is what scares me the most: there is no target, so it just festers deep inside. I guess a lot of this comes from just having to wait until we can rebuild our lives here.
The only thing I can hope for is when we can finally sleep in our house again. Maybe the demons will go away.
Well, I asked my buddy at NOAA to turn Chris around,
absolutely no help whatsoever except for sarcasm-the latest is
its headed for the gulf.
Laurie
permission to pee on oneself.