Oh, where to begin.
My six-week healing extravaganza (from hand surgery) is coming to a close, just in time for the fall that comes at the end of Fall – and I mean that in every conceivable way.
This year, the brightly colored leaves weren’t even off the tress before a whap of snow made its first appearance, along with freezing temps. This isn’t normal, not even for Canada, which most Americans (including myself before I moved here) believe is the norm from October to June. Not so!
I was talking to my mom the other day and she said something along the lines of, “You sound depressed,” to which I responded, “No! That’s just it. I’m not!”
Wise Dr. Mom knew better.
It took me another day to realize that yes, I am depressed. God Dammit. <– which may seem totally out of character in a post about (among other things) the Patron Saint of the Universal Church and/or the Patron Saint of a Happy Death. (See the two paragraphs below.)
Venerated as a saint in many Christian sects, Saint Joseph is a biblical figure who is believed to have been the corporeal father of Jesus Christ. … According to the Bible, Joseph was born circa 100 B.C.E. and later wed the Virgin Mary, Jesus’s mother. He died in Israel circa 1 A.D. (Link)
Patronage. Pope Pius IX proclaimed Saint Joseph the patron of the Universal Church in 1870. Having died in the “arms of Jesus and Mary” according to Catholic tradition, he is considered the model of the pious believer who receives grace at the moment of death, in other words, the patron of a happy death. (Link)
So, how did I get to St. Joseph? Lemme tell ya.
I had to go out yesterday, so I threw on some mostly clean clothes over my unwashed body because – hey, I didn’t feel like showering. I’d showered the day before and massively over-dressed for the weather because even though the snow is still on the ground in clumps and bits – see photo below – it’s deceptively warmer than expected. I mean as you look at it from inside the house.
So, there I was in the grocery store devising a story in case anyone asked why my face was flaming red and I was sweating bullets (I should never go out immediately after a work out! Haha! <– that was my plan. I don’t think it would have flown because I don’t look like I’ve worked out since 1982, which is – let’s face it – almost the truth. But -yes, my dear friend Ana – I digress.)
Anywho, a shower was definitely needed yesterday but as I mentioned already, I didn’t wanna. So, I threw on sweats, tennies, and a heavy hoodie. I sorta blended-in except for the tennies because (can you believe it?) Canadians don’t wear tennis shoes like everyday shoes. They wear them as (gasp!) sports shoes, which of course they are! I’m a die-hard California girl though… and a rebel. *Ahem*
The no-shower-thing should have been my first clue that I was fighting a bout of depression but instead, it was my last. Go figure.
Anyway, I was out and about yesterday and decided that I needed some emotional self-help and drove myself to the only labyrinth I know in the city. It’s at a hospital, of all places. I’ve mentioned it briefly before (along with a photo) and always meant to go back to it. Yesterday, I’d decided to do a Facebook live as I walked.
I paid $2 to park and as I was getting out my phone for photos, I realized I didn’t have my asthma spray. I mean, not in my purse. At all. I *always* have my inhaler with me! How did this happen? (Note: When I think of all the places I’ve been and how far away from home and walking around in cold weather, which is a huge trigger for me! Yikes! Colossally careless, as I am a lifelong asthmatic.) I’d already put the $2 in the meter so I decided to take it slow, which … not wise … but coincidentally, just then my daughter called just as I’d left the statue that you see above – yes, our Patron Saint, Joseph.
I had planned on walking/ talking/ and breathing at the same time but I didn’t have the wherewithal to pay attention to an important conversation, too! So I got in the car and had a lovely chat with her. Then I drove home, put an asthma inhaler in my purse and went upstairs to play Candy Crush. What can I say? I’m hooked. It was nearly time to make dinner by this point, anyhow. Don’t judge me. Ahem.
So yeah, I realized I’m depressed. Oddly, during the last six weeks of healing, I felt pretty good. Must be the “Doing whatever I want and getting enough money on temp disability to pay my cell phone bill and buy some food”. Man, if I could only figure out a way to do this all the time, lazy ass that I am. How very encouraging and self-help-y of me, isn’t it? *sigh*
But today is another day. You’ll be happy to know I took a bath today and smell really good! Just thought I’d share that. And I’m here writing about it all.
This would be the point where I’d normally tie up all the loose ends and tell you how important Joseph is.
The hospital has a plaque that says he’s the Patron Saint of the Universal Church and Healing, so at least you don’t walk in with Patron Saint of a Happy Death is watching over you. Score one for the hospital.