Suddenly, yesterday, the emotional Black Dog of depression showed up. No, definitely not any regrets, doubts, shame or remorse, of that I’m very sure – just a general morose feeling. Once again, luckily I had a reference point though, Micah’s Neutroise Nonsense post on Post surgical depression.
I know I have had a radical surgical procedure – I went into the hospital with breasts and two and a half hours later, I had a chest. I have already written in an earlier post about my brain still “seeing” virtual breasts, and it is still trying to play catch up with my body. Since surgery, I have been able to look in a mirror without a feeling of shame and instant aversion of my eyes. My brain is staring in wonder at the reflection of a new flat plane where there used to be hills. And it is able to look and not be repulsed. That is the exciting adventure of the future.
The Black Dog shading me, is only a temporary companion, so I pat him gently. “Down boy, down.” He heeds.