Loved this, Rona. I’m sorry you have carried this around for so long.
I have battled anxiety and depression all my life.
My Grade 2 teacher’s report card comment,
“Pammy is a moody child and I wish she would keep her garbage out of the aisles.”
Hospitalized twice in my late twenties. When the SSRI drugs arrived, I was in my forties and they worked. Losing my father and two sisters has been a challenge. I get lost in that sometimes and it takes work and Simon to pull me up.
I too have found sheer bliss and amazement on my walks with him.
Dear Rona: In my poetry folder (.docx drafts-in-progress), I have a poem I first titled, "A Dance to the End of Depression," when I scribbled it in my journal in 1991. Since then, it has undergone much transformation, as have I. Now it exists as "Act I" of a poem in three short acts. Thank you for reminding me to revisit it, revise it, edit it, and publish it. One of the lines is, "She dances for generations." We have so many dance partners.
Thank you for this lovely gift Rona. I am so happy you're here and look forward to reading more! The woman you describe is such a powerful example of the many faces of depression and the fact that we often never know someone's struggles or story. Thanks again for this!
I have found in recent years a gift I wasn't aware (or maybe able, full stop) to reach for in my younger years. It's the knowing that I won't feel exactly as I do now tomorrow. This knowledge is solace in that it makes me more able, more often to sit with what is without feeling compelled to try and fix it or guilty because I can't.
Holly, what a wonderful and useful insight. Of course, it cuts both ways: You won't always feel as sparkly as you do at your best, so you're wise to savor the brilliance and fix it in your memory like a blaze on a trail.
Another one that hits so close to home. When I asked myself that question about how many people in my circle have lost someone to suicide I didn't bother to count. Thank you, Rona, for writing so openly about what is not simply "the common cold of mental illness."
I read your words hoping for unsmudged glass to the unremitting weeping of others. I have felt depression in the long ago, replaced at the time by multiple bad decisions -anything to climb out of the abyss. Time helped. Trudging along the same well worn paths eventually I found the courage to stray into a place where I found agency. I think that is the term for recognizing one’s unique abilities to cope.
Casey does that for you, stopping to peruse the doggy landscape and thereby showing you his world. Through his shared being and purpose light comes in.
I think I would welcome conversation about this, give and take, ruminating on what is said. Although I have personally experienced depression, it is still so dark in my mind I cannot take it in on any level. Maybe I am afraid to feel it again.
There are two people in a sort of medium circle in my mattering now who are suffering and one who is looking straight at the loss of her daughter to brain cancer. There are my own daughters who insistently drag me into their darkest places as our primary interaction and are outraged that I cannot bring them out. There is mental illness depression and the dark night of the soul when one’s most significant other is gone. Both are unfathomable.
What a lot of anguish surrounds you, Gail. Depression can be contagious, and loss can bring it on. I am particularly saddened for your daughters and the impact of their affliction on you. Nobody can bring anybody out of depression, although a good therapist can do a world of good.
A powerful read this morning and one I will return to. When I lived in the city, walking the one and a half miles to my studio engaged all the senses and pulled me out of whatever state of mind I was in-though sometimes city scenes could also be depressing. Now, retired in the PNW, nature centers me as I cannot avoid looking out my windows at the beauty of the mountains. I am still grappling with what to do at 2 a.m. when the world events keep me awake. Thank you.
Rona, beautiful. I've never been depressed, but have had anxiety my whole life, a close cousin, and found relief with medication five years ago, and of course with my angel Newfie Freya. But my mum's bouts of depression were debilitating for the family, and still haunt me.
Your mother could radiate pleasure and grace, but I was aware of her fragility. Depression infects the whole family. A person in despair is a bottomless pit.
Loved this, Rona. I’m sorry you have carried this around for so long.
I have battled anxiety and depression all my life.
My Grade 2 teacher’s report card comment,
“Pammy is a moody child and I wish she would keep her garbage out of the aisles.”
Hospitalized twice in my late twenties. When the SSRI drugs arrived, I was in my forties and they worked. Losing my father and two sisters has been a challenge. I get lost in that sometimes and it takes work and Simon to pull me up.
I too have found sheer bliss and amazement on my walks with him.
Thanks for this.
Oh, Pam. That teacher. "Garbage" in the aisles, indeed. I am so sorry. Wishing you many more lovely rambles with sweet Simon.
If she had investigated the change in behaviour from the previous year she might have correctly assumed there was a problem on the home front.
I started school at 4 so I was only 6 turning 7.
Adults can be so terribly dense about the children in their care.
My second grade teacher, Miss Frané, was unbelievably cruel to me for no reason. What trash did you put out in the walkway?
How terribly hard for little you. Some teachers should have chosen a different profession.
Dear Rona: In my poetry folder (.docx drafts-in-progress), I have a poem I first titled, "A Dance to the End of Depression," when I scribbled it in my journal in 1991. Since then, it has undergone much transformation, as have I. Now it exists as "Act I" of a poem in three short acts. Thank you for reminding me to revisit it, revise it, edit it, and publish it. One of the lines is, "She dances for generations." We have so many dance partners.
What’s occurred to me has often occurred to someone else, and that’s a good thing. Originality is overrated.
Thank you for this lovely gift Rona. I am so happy you're here and look forward to reading more! The woman you describe is such a powerful example of the many faces of depression and the fact that we often never know someone's struggles or story. Thanks again for this!
I love your beautiful Casey!
Light of our lives.
Thank you for sharing this beacon in the dark.
I have found in recent years a gift I wasn't aware (or maybe able, full stop) to reach for in my younger years. It's the knowing that I won't feel exactly as I do now tomorrow. This knowledge is solace in that it makes me more able, more often to sit with what is without feeling compelled to try and fix it or guilty because I can't.
Holly, what a wonderful and useful insight. Of course, it cuts both ways: You won't always feel as sparkly as you do at your best, so you're wise to savor the brilliance and fix it in your memory like a blaze on a trail.
Ah, truth.
Another one that hits so close to home. When I asked myself that question about how many people in my circle have lost someone to suicide I didn't bother to count. Thank you, Rona, for writing so openly about what is not simply "the common cold of mental illness."
Thank goodness that metaphor is just about gone.
Pete Seeger is the most cheerful musician, I find.
He radiated hope for the world.
I read your words hoping for unsmudged glass to the unremitting weeping of others. I have felt depression in the long ago, replaced at the time by multiple bad decisions -anything to climb out of the abyss. Time helped. Trudging along the same well worn paths eventually I found the courage to stray into a place where I found agency. I think that is the term for recognizing one’s unique abilities to cope.
Casey does that for you, stopping to peruse the doggy landscape and thereby showing you his world. Through his shared being and purpose light comes in.
I think I would welcome conversation about this, give and take, ruminating on what is said. Although I have personally experienced depression, it is still so dark in my mind I cannot take it in on any level. Maybe I am afraid to feel it again.
There are two people in a sort of medium circle in my mattering now who are suffering and one who is looking straight at the loss of her daughter to brain cancer. There are my own daughters who insistently drag me into their darkest places as our primary interaction and are outraged that I cannot bring them out. There is mental illness depression and the dark night of the soul when one’s most significant other is gone. Both are unfathomable.
What a lot of anguish surrounds you, Gail. Depression can be contagious, and loss can bring it on. I am particularly saddened for your daughters and the impact of their affliction on you. Nobody can bring anybody out of depression, although a good therapist can do a world of good.
Terrific post, Rona, and I love the phrase "joyful melancholic." Happy to see you writing here regularly!
Means a lot, Kim. I've been recommending your posts on writing.
A powerful read this morning and one I will return to. When I lived in the city, walking the one and a half miles to my studio engaged all the senses and pulled me out of whatever state of mind I was in-though sometimes city scenes could also be depressing. Now, retired in the PNW, nature centers me as I cannot avoid looking out my windows at the beauty of the mountains. I am still grappling with what to do at 2 a.m. when the world events keep me awake. Thank you.
Rona, beautiful. I've never been depressed, but have had anxiety my whole life, a close cousin, and found relief with medication five years ago, and of course with my angel Newfie Freya. But my mum's bouts of depression were debilitating for the family, and still haunt me.
Your mother could radiate pleasure and grace, but I was aware of her fragility. Depression infects the whole family. A person in despair is a bottomless pit.
So true
Beautiful. Powerful. Moving.
Thank you, Jane. Writing this one took a while.
I love your beautiful Casey!