The thing about Depression is that it exists wholly without cause. It is of itself and doesn’t care fuck all about timing or reasons.
Example: I am just back from the trip of a lifetime. Numero uno on my bucket list. Even if England was boring and ugly (it isn’t) I still would have had a terrific time visiting with my friends.
More friends: Today was old home week at the store and I saw several of my favorite young women. Some just in to do a shopping, but others were home over the holiday weekend and came in to firm up their re-hires for the winter break from school. Hugs. Many, many hugs.
Then there was the healing. Used pressure points on her hand and forehead to relieve Hope’s sinus woes. She’s pregnant and can’t take any meds right now. Before work I’d put together a special infusion mix to help Jan with her erratic menstrual cycle and told her how to brew it when she came in for her shift. Heidi’s headache. Pete accidentally mashed his hand unloading today’s truck and sought me out. Some weeks back I’d helped heal another injury of his and ever since he’s convinced I’m the only medic he needs. Fortunately nothing was broken so after a soothing massage with peppermint oil I sent him off with instructions to take an anti-inflammatory and to keep his hand safe from being re-smushed. A.J got advice about his hemorrhoids (which did NOT involve me putting hands on the affected area, thank goodness) but did include a stern lecture about getting more fiber and the overall benefits of dark leafy greens.
Plus there was the usual assistance to customers. Where to find things. How to cook things. Was this the correct coupon? Could I get something off the top shelf for them? Also my own clients that I shopped for and taking care all of their questions and add-ons.
So, yeah, I know I am both liked and useful. No less than 20 people a day come to me for advice, and most of the younger ones call me ‘Mom’. Including the one I actually gave birth to.
And yet…the Depression. One of its tricksy malign voices sneers and mocks. Another whispers hateful insulting things. And always poking with a sharp stick. Poking, poking, poking. Delighting when it makes me wince. Laughing aloud when I bleed. A sniggering under-voice that tells me how useless I am. How ugly. Oh, I am such a waste of space! How can I not understand how great the world would be without me in it?
It says ‘anxiety’ but it’s what Depression is like too. And it blows.
If all it took to beat back this buggardly disease was awareness and some gratitude my life would look like this:
Tired, frustrated, angry, and more than a little ashamed, ~LA