WATCHING MARY

I'm swimming as far as I can, off Santa Monica Pier. It's early. Someone must have called because I see the rescue helicopter overhead. Shit, just cuz I said I wanted to swim as far as I could and not swim back...just sink...did they have to alert the "authorities". All of a sudden, instead of intent on checking out, I was frolicking in the salty still sun lit waters. I waved at the bright yellow bird flying just above me. Hiiii, I yelled then did my best water ballet somersault. Swimming to shore, well that's the last thing I remember until the nice police man called my name. What exactly I wonder changed my mind? Was it the sand then the wonder I felt at being so in control, so buoyant in the vastness of this thing called ocean? I can't tell you, I was pretty high. Yea, I can...it was divine....all of a sudden, I realized the beauty and blessedness of life. The voices stopped...I was not the me who calls herself "depressed" no diagnosis was attached for those short minutes in the water.

The plot thickens then thins, I shant bore you. Suffice it to say, I had to get "wacko" or not clearance from an institution that contracts with the city of Santa Monica to deal with the "crazies". Funny, the first question the fellow asked was "do you drink coffee". I said no of course.

Now I sit writing what they call a "blog" (could'nt one thing of a less horrific title?). Big interview tomorrow which I will ace. Keeping the job is the "rub". Reading a book called: "Unholy Ghost" Writers on Depression. It's pretty depressing but for those of you who suffer the "disease" it rings so true. Doesn't change where I am. The good news is most "depressives" come out of it. I have many times. This bout is tough though. So, there it is.

Learn more about this author, Shannie Connery.
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