depression, and other woes

I have finally come to grips with being depressed.

It's difficult to describe to myself what this actually feels like.  A sinking feeling, a heaviness, a unique kind of nausea.  Sadness, deep sadness.  Despair.  Hopelessness.  Fatigue.  Lost-ness.

Randomly, I try to reconnect with the little girl who was me.  I was an early reader, I loved to draw and write, I loved acting and singing.  I loved God.  I loved my family.

I can never remember being close to my mother.  I can't help but wonder if that itself is not the root of my depression.

I can remember, vividly and with a busted heart, being close to my father.  Now, I wonder if he doesn't think I am the worst person he has ever met- I have no indication to believe he feels anything for me anymore.  Somewhere around puberty and first boyfriends, I began to lose him.  He has steadily pulled away from me for the last 23 years.  It seems that quietly getting married to an outstanding and strong gentleman was the nail in the coffin of our fading relationship.  He rarely sees his grandsons, and he lives but 9 short blocks away from me.

I was also extremely close to my paternal grandmother.  Gosh, there was no greater love to me.  She was my stand-in mother, and my real mother did all she can in the early years to sabotage us.  It only made us stronger.  Over time, and with great reluctance, I came to distrust my grandmother.  It was a few little fibs here and there, some biases, a touch of manipulation.  After several years I realized that she, too, was hurting me deeply, manipulating me, abusing me emotionally.  She'd learned to play on my vulnerability to keep me feeling obligated to her.  She was terrified of living, and at some point I realized that she'd rather see me beside her than to see me successful.

I remember the night I awakened to the idea that all I had been able to hold on to was a lie, a dalliance, a stop-gap. (I'll return to this subject later)

My heart became fully broken and I became lost.  I remained lost until I found yoga in 2007.  My heart began to creak open, my body angrily began to awaken from a long sleep, and my mind found some stillness.  My life became vibrant again.



I remember having interests.  I was, and still am, good at nearly everything I tried to pick up.  The problem was never with talent, but with stability, with support.  I remember my mother's horrible choice in matrimony introducing me to his older aunt, and after she'd asked me what I liked to do, I had replied, shyly, "I like to draw."  He, the man who was abusing our entire family, laid his oppressive hand on my shoulder (my signal to shut the fuck up and take it) and laughed, "yeah, she draws flies!"

I had no idea what that meant, since I'd never tried to draw a bug.  It took me more than 20 years to realize that a grown man just called a six year old girl a piece of shit.



Well, thankfully I haven't so much to complain about in this current time.  In fact, if anything, I should be rejoicing.  Yet, it's deeply difficult to embrace love when it's been your enemy during those formative years.  I find my first reactions to my children's requests for touch, my husband's affectionate gestures, and even phone calls and texts from dear friends is to turn away.  Reject call.  Push away, walk away, go away.  My life is literally filled to the brim with people who love the pain out of me…  and I usually say 'no' to them all.

I'm trying.  Naming this devil inside me the name of Depression is helping a little.  A lot actually.  I can feel more deeply than I can ever remember.  One wise and wonderful friend says this:  "Perhaps you had to bury that part of yourself so that you could get stronger.  Maybe now you are strong enough to see what you need to do."  Another, this:  "Perhaps when the mind realizes it is in a safe place, your heart begins to open and you can now heal those places that were hurt."  I'm sticking with those concepts for now.  I'm finding that accepting it is getting me further than fighting it.  My guard is down but my awareness is up.  My mind is tired but my body is still loving.  My heart is hurting, but it feels more like breaking free than breaking down.  Perhaps I am grieving that old, suppressed, apathetic part of myself, and what feels like nausea are actually the excitement of butterflies at the chance to heal and live anew.

Here goes everything.