| Before Index After |
   |
|
    |
A Journal of Sorts |
Monday, 29 March 1999On depressionI'm feeling so very uninspired today, almost as if I'm sinking into a depression. I can only hope, no PRAY, please, I don't want to go there again. These disorders are so overwhelmingly frightening. When I found myself drowning, I hadn't a clue how I got in over my head and had no idea how to find the path that led to the real me. I didn't even know how long I had been there.When I was younger, I danced with the tides, always managing to slip away before the undertow would suck me too far from shore. I could wet my feet in the waves of rape victim guilt, the shame of an abused child or the self-loathing that comes with sexual abuse. I could even wade deeper, stringing thoughts and memories back to back until I felt myself going under, then turn and face the shore, see the beauty of creation, the order of all things. In those days, I could always find the hope for the future. Now, I remember the years I spent pressed under the weight of that vast sea, struggling to surface and only finding myself deeper, the years I felt helpless and hopeless. Those memories frighten me. I'm afraid I will find myself there again. What could I possibly do to stop it all if it started again? I spent the day behaving as if I felt all normal and ok. At least, I thought I did. This evening, Tom talked with me about it. It seems he can read my heart at times. When he asked me what was wrong, I could honestly say ~nothing~; there is, after all, nothing wrong. But, I remembered when these feelings started; we were sitting at the table looking at a gardening catalog. I picked up the catalog and started flipping through it again to see what triggered this anguish. Sure enough, there it is on page 22, an ice cream maker. Interesting, the things that can cause me to flood myself with memories that are better left buried. |
| Before Index After |
|
|
| |