Of Men and Caves...

Thank God, I don’t suffer from depression.

But sometimes, not all that often, mind you, I tend to go into a bit of a cave-mode. I want to be ignored, yet I crave attention. And when I get it, I don’t want it. And I retract even a little deeper into the dark black of my cave’s desolation.

So then I don’t want anyone to notice me. And when they don’t notice me, I hate myself and them and the whole wide world. And when they do notice me, I want them to look the other way. Just leave me alone!

Complex? Not really.

Some may even call it a mild (and usually short-lived) form of depression, I just call it my Cave-mode. OK, a buddy of mine accurately diagnosed it. As if he knows anything about the human mind and soul. Maybe he does. He probably don't. But he still insists in calling me his Cave-man friend.

Like this particular Sunday-morning (not very long after my second divorce) when I woke up. All nice and shiny and chirpy. Beautiful summer-morning when the last thing you want to do is to sit at home alone. We had some outing or breakfast with the bikes and the beach-buggy planned, and I was really looking forward to it. Friends and sunshine and the blue sky and a beer or two.

Life’s a breeze.

So I get into the car to go and pick up the maid, who can’t work for me on any other day than the Good Lord’s intended day of rest. She’s not there. On my way back, she sends me a text message that she will not be working today.

The sun is still shining, the sky is blue and it’s good to be alive. I notice an ever-so-light breeze picking up and playing with the leaves at the side of the road.

Get home, just want to get ready for our day out when I remember that the washing machine needs to be relieved from it’s load, now all clean and wet and ready to be hung out. So I take it out, trip over my own two feet and drop the bundle on the dirty laundry floor. Stomp on the washing and curse some not-to-be published insults at the brown shoe-marks all over the white shirt that I wanted to wear to a cocktail function the very next evening.

The sun is hardly shining, some dark, relentless clouds are beginning to obstruct most of the sky.

Get the washing outside on the line, decide to quickly clean the laundry floor. Busy with that, I accidentally overturn a half-full 25 litre bucket of white paint. And the bucket was not closed properly.

You guessed correctly…

The sun is gone, the sky is pitch-black and the birds have emigrated to where-ever birds go when they need to get away. And life’s a bitch. A really bad and ugly and monstrous bitch.

Clean the laundry floor. Hop onto MSN and tell my buddy that I will NOT be joining them after all. Don’t ask questions, don’t expect any answers.

I’m in my Cave-mode.

Deep and dark and formidable.

Got into bed. Slept the rest of the day wondering what my mates were up to. When they phoned me, I didn’t pick it up. Just leave me the hell alone!!

The next day and for most of the week, I’m still in mega-ignore Cave-man mode.

The next week end, my buddy (with his usual wealth of understanding and compassion and the usual dosage of sarcasm) sent me an SMS to join them on the breakfast-run. Or not. My call. And I thought “Stuff this” and I was there in a flash. He shook my hand with a mighty Grin and said:

“Greetings, at least you’re saving me a lot of money.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because it would have cost a lot of moolah to go and see that show ‘Greet the Cave-man’. And I’m doing it right now for free!!”.

I couldn’t help it, I just had to laugh. I shook his hand and I hopped out of my cave and life was good.

The sun is shining brightly, the sky is blue and it’s SO good to be alive.

It’s great to have friends who understand.

Until next time…