There are days when I wake up cursing that another day has to be got through. I long to put mu head under the covers and pray that the world will go away. It never does! Today is one of those days - even the sight of the sun is depressing - too bright and the sky is too blue.
I know that makes me sound like a moaning Minnie - but to misquote Atticus, "walk around in my shoes for awhile and see what it feels like".
I wonder where this all came from - I think from loss - first Mum , then teaching and then Dad. But sometimes I wonder it it goes deeper still - the menopause and the realisation that I would never have children - the loss of self identity that came from the loss of Calcutta. I know many people lose far more and bear it all far better but some weakness within me crumples with each passing until there is nothing left but darling Emily's 'grey emptiness - despair".
All I know is that each day is harder than the last. Oh, the medication helps - without it I would probably have given up long ago so it keeps me alive. Giving blood helped - something that I could do,
The hardest loss and the hardest fight has been to regain my voice in the blog. The fight with my sister took my autonomy away to say what I felt and it had taken until now to find the courage to write again.
I hope this continues for it is my lifeline to the world - again dear Emily, " and real life is over there/upon that shelf".
There was someone who understood the grey of depression, the melancholy and the lack of desire to take part in the real world. Maybe I should go on a pilgrimage to Amherst and lay flowers like all the other Dickenson junkies.Had sad that I cannot get to my mother's grave to lay flowers there. I relied on my sister to take me.
It seems I have lost my family both through death and life - bored my friends beyond belief for this gets uninteresting fast. It all seems rather lonely and pointless - bur hey, tomorrow might be better - or not.
I know that makes me sound like a moaning Minnie - but to misquote Atticus, "walk around in my shoes for awhile and see what it feels like".
I wonder where this all came from - I think from loss - first Mum , then teaching and then Dad. But sometimes I wonder it it goes deeper still - the menopause and the realisation that I would never have children - the loss of self identity that came from the loss of Calcutta. I know many people lose far more and bear it all far better but some weakness within me crumples with each passing until there is nothing left but darling Emily's 'grey emptiness - despair".
All I know is that each day is harder than the last. Oh, the medication helps - without it I would probably have given up long ago so it keeps me alive. Giving blood helped - something that I could do,
The hardest loss and the hardest fight has been to regain my voice in the blog. The fight with my sister took my autonomy away to say what I felt and it had taken until now to find the courage to write again.
There was someone who understood the grey of depression, the melancholy and the lack of desire to take part in the real world. Maybe I should go on a pilgrimage to Amherst and lay flowers like all the other Dickenson junkies.Had sad that I cannot get to my mother's grave to lay flowers there. I relied on my sister to take me.
It seems I have lost my family both through death and life - bored my friends beyond belief for this gets uninteresting fast. It all seems rather lonely and pointless - bur hey, tomorrow might be better - or not.
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