I found it rolling around in my makeup drawer, clearly forgotten – at least two years old.  I turned it over and read the label at the bottom.  ”Smitten” was the color.

I don’t wear lipstick.  I never really have.  I could never handle the pressure of having to reapply, and to this day have not found a color that looks better than the color of my own real lips.  It felt foreign to open it up… slowly run it across my lips… I even smelled it.

I heard my son begin to cry in the baby monitor, and cursed myself for the very little amount of writing, or cleaning, or personal grooming, or anything I got done during this hour to myself.  I paused for a second and looked at myself in the mirror.  My lips were smitten but my eyes were dull.  I pulled my hair back into a ponytail, keenly aware that I had no place to go and nothing to look forward to besides the next room to get the baby and to pick up my other son from school.  If I was lucky, I could also fit in a visit to the grocery store.

This bout of depression is particularly murky.  I’m not “sad” or “blue”.  I just feel settled into the idea that nothing feels good.  I feel far away from my kids… my husband… my wants… my dreams.  Sometimes I’m angry and resentful… but most of the time I just don’t care.

It’s been a couple weeks in this place.  I know what triggered it, but can’t seem to climb out of it.

I barely had the energy to command my hand to put that tube of lipstick to my face… but I needed it.  It felt slightly weird… and colorful… and frivolous.  It helped for a little while.

The next day I wore a skirt and I went to visit a friend.  That felt good for a little while too.

I know I have good things in my life – my brain knows this.  I know I have a million things to get done.  I know at some point I’ll feel better.

But right now, I can’t see my way to fixing my insides…

a few things on the outside are about all I can muster.

But it’s something…

it’s an attempt…

and I’m talking…

and I’m open to a few more lipstick days to come.