Sunday, February 22, 2015

Ghosts inside you


I haven't really been writing that much here. The truth is I've been feeling a little down and who wants to read that? I remember reading something once in which the writer described depression as a dull gray sweater she'd been slipping into and out of for years. I have been wearing that dull gray sweater for weeks now. Alone, I watch sad movies for the release of tears, The Theory of Everything yesterday, St. Vincent this morning, and I weep inconsolably over them. They give me a reason.

My Aunt Grace told me that the year before her mother died she cried all the time and she couldn't understand why.

I miss what it felt like when I was 26 and my love and I could simply go for a walk in the park and it would be a grand adventure.

I miss when my babies were small and snow all day meant being outside with friends, watching the kids whizz down the hill, so many of them because we were the ones with the good sledding hill in our back yard.

It snowed all day yesterday but today the sun is out. I feel as if I can barely stay inside my skin. There are people I could call but it feels like a great effort to be social.

I plan to watch the Oscars tonight, but first I have to get through the hours.



Photo: Art installation by Robert Montgomery


23 comments:

  1. Oh, gosh. I am sorry for your depression. I understand it. I still have children at home to keep it at bay. I wish that you could unravel your sweater, hand a piece to someone to make a ball of it and then give it to an animal or something to bat around.

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    1. Elizabeth, I was thinking yesterday that I have not felt quite this way since I was in my early 20s. Children in the home bring their own stresses, but one is definitely less lonely in the cosmic sense when they are around.

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  2. The time before my mom died was almost as bad after she died. "Anticipatory Grief" they call it. At any rate, don't be hard on yourself and continue to post. (My whole blog is about depression!) Your whole world is changing. The older member of your family are dying and your children are leaving the nest. You are making your way in a whole new world and it will take a while to find new footing.

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    1. Birdie, thank you so much for this! Anticipatory Grief, I had no idea there was such a thing, but it feels accurate. Thank you, friend, for being here, and for sharing your wisdom.

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  3. That photo. I feel it. That sweater. I own one too.
    Take good care.

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  4. That damn gray sweater. Just when we think we've thrown it away...
    There it is again. And somehow, we are wearing it.
    Loving you.

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    1. Ms. Moon, that gray sweater is so tattered by now; I wish I could just burn it. xo

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  5. Ugh - not good. I don't know what to say to make you feel better, except I'm sorry and I hope it gets brighter soon.

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    1. Expat mom, thank you for this wish. And for being here. xo

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  6. There will be spring, sunlit evenings and warm wind. Promise!

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  7. These emotions come in waves. I'm sorry you are dealing with so much at the moment but you also have so many blessings. Moments to cherish will make their way to you again.

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    1. Gary, I wish when I was in the middle of the wave I could remember that I will not feel this way always. I might not even feel this way in the next hour. You're right. I have such blessings.

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  8. I agree with your commenter Birdie--lots going on and coming into a new phase of life...Do as you need and do not worry. Things will get better. Hugs.

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    1. e, thank you, friend. rock with it, as they say...

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  9. I alway enjoy reading your blog and I feel sad that you feel the weight of that dreaded gray sweater. I hope the sun shines, melts the snow, warms up your spirit, and lifts the heaviness from your heart.

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    1. Drita, thank you for that lovely image of the sun, warming everything. Always nice to see you here.

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  10. "Anticipatory Grief" -- that's an interesting term. At any rate, I completely understand why you feel this way. This is a time of major transition. It sounds like you're dealing with the feelings, at least, by allowing yourself to experience them. (Even if sad movies serve as a proxy for the release of tears -- not a bad thing!)

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    1. Steve, it seems as if I have been in transition for years now. I have begun to think that life itself is one big transition, one thing on the heels of the next. Perhaps if I look at it this way I will release the idea that it should be any different, and whatever suffering attaches to that. I, too, was very struck by that term, Anticipatory Grief. Maybe? Thanks for being here, friend.

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    2. Perhaps it's a side-effect of having an unusually large and close family. You've been a source of support for many of your older relatives. Life really IS one long transition. I've even heard it described as a process of continual loss, though that seems a little too negative. After all, we gain too, right?

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  11. I'm feeling it here too Angella. It's gray and wet and Scott is in India. The babies are here. Always good for a laugh (there was a cocoa and toothpaste incident!) and a snuggle but soon they will be moving....
    I keep weaving in bits of color to the gray sweater. Saffron and mustard, crimson and cobalt.
    It is still a gray sweater though.
    Sending you hugs.

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  12. That photo. Damn. Is that not the truth? We keep the lost people inside of us. We are full of people.
    I've been feeling the sweater. Antsy, I suppose. Jack is here and now what? It's strange when the thing you look forward to is here and life sort of gets back to normal except it's not at all what used to be normal and you have to wade through it and figure out how to balance the newness even though parts of the old are still there.

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