It is 3.30 in the morning and I am sitting up in bed, cross legged writing this because my brain will simply not accept that this is sleep time.I have been sitting here desperately trying to think of small baba tales to entertain you with and all that is doing is to make sleep waft gently away as smoke from a lit cigarette leaves its toxic cloud quietly above your face.
Awhile ago, when I seemed to have lost my voice for writing I saw a crappy Sunday afternoon film - one of those made for TV movies firmly rooted in the rom com genre. It had a happy ending of course but it made me cry and cry. I don't know why, maybe the protagonist's loss of both parents, maybe the death of the little girl's father. Whatever the reason I cried for two days - not subtle gentle tears that slide eloquently down the face but loud whooping tears and snot. And then I realised - I had never really cried for Mum or Dad and exhausting and terrifying as it was it was also like lancing a boil. I slept for another two days and felt as if a burden had been lifted.
To reach the sunlight when one suffers from depression is a scary thing, the black clouds are always there at your back." But oh my dears and oh my friends it is a lovely light ",as Edna St Vincent Millais would say of candle light.
It is however transient and I wish I could sit here now and say that all in the garden is roses and buttercups but it isn't. There are days when I want to die and days when all I want to do is lay down in a darkened room and stop this carousel world for a few brief moments of respite. I understand the frustrations of those of you love me - I get frustrated too and long for normality and certitude. Long to find Pollyanna again and be more like the small baba with all her confidence and love." Maybe this time..."
Awhile ago, when I seemed to have lost my voice for writing I saw a crappy Sunday afternoon film - one of those made for TV movies firmly rooted in the rom com genre. It had a happy ending of course but it made me cry and cry. I don't know why, maybe the protagonist's loss of both parents, maybe the death of the little girl's father. Whatever the reason I cried for two days - not subtle gentle tears that slide eloquently down the face but loud whooping tears and snot. And then I realised - I had never really cried for Mum or Dad and exhausting and terrifying as it was it was also like lancing a boil. I slept for another two days and felt as if a burden had been lifted.
To reach the sunlight when one suffers from depression is a scary thing, the black clouds are always there at your back." But oh my dears and oh my friends it is a lovely light ",as Edna St Vincent Millais would say of candle light.
It is however transient and I wish I could sit here now and say that all in the garden is roses and buttercups but it isn't. There are days when I want to die and days when all I want to do is lay down in a darkened room and stop this carousel world for a few brief moments of respite. I understand the frustrations of those of you love me - I get frustrated too and long for normality and certitude. Long to find Pollyanna again and be more like the small baba with all her confidence and love." Maybe this time..."
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