Wednesday, September 30, 2009

It is a good thing that I know how to Swim

I am not in the best frame of mind these days. I don't have a specific reason to be blue--nothing extra ordinary has occurred, no major tragedies have befallen, and it is too soon after a gloriously sunny fall weekend to attribute this pervasive sadness to changes in season or weather.
I avoid writing about my depression for several reasons. One, that folks read my blog and feel an overwhelming pressure to call and try to cheer me up or fix me. For me, these writings are a deeply personal, and a strangely public baring of my soul--as if I awoke from one of those public nudity dreams, discovered it was real, and then had to delicately wade through public commentary on my deeply embarrassing public parade. For another; I want to protect those in my life from worrying about me. And, to a lesser extent, to avoid the kind of inane 'cure all' blather that seems to go hand in hand with depression: "you don't have it as bad as so and so," "you have so much to be happy about," "count your blessings," and my personal favorite, "you seem so happy." Medically and spiritually I am well cared for with this challenge. And, I don't particularly like to discuss it.

Depression goes part and parcel with MS. Attributed to both changes in the brain from the illness and the challenges that MS causes in ones life.
So, what do I need? Nothing, really. Just swimming through some deeper darker waters right now. It is a good day to turn off the phone and settle in with a good book.
And a special acknowledgment to my wonderful husband. He would like to wave a magic wand and make me all better. But, in lieu of that, at 6:30 this morning he slipped out of the house and went to the store and bought me some raisin bran. Why? Because I casually mentioned that it sounded good for breakfast and he wanted to do something nice for me. So, thank you, thank you, thank you to my best friend of 23 years who knows how to make me smile down deep in my soul. And who cheerfully goes out on a dark, rainy morning to buy a box of cereal full of those 'evil' raisins that he doesn't eat.

1 comment:

Bibliotekaren said...

"For me, these writings are a deeply personal, and a strangely public baring of my soul--as if I awoke from one of those public nudity dreams..."

Thank you for sharing this part of your soul.