Cry and Send

I need to cry.

I try not to post my most tender feelings on my blog, but today is an exception.

I’m typing and wiping ~ tears flow as the iPhone plays soft songs. It’s 12:30 p.m., and I’ve only been out of bed to go to the bathroom. It’s a sick day for me. Began as a physical nausea. When that passed, my mind and chest showed the real origination of my ill feelings. Dealing with depression and intermittent grief over life-changes exhausts me. I want out. I just want out.

I can’t get out because of my kids. My mama. I can’t do that to them. They don’t know how much I hurt sometimes, though. They keep saying that I am loved and that life will get better. I’ve waited for four years. Life is better, but not “better.” I miss my kids every single day. Not a “lonesome” like other moms seem to experience. Mine is a longing that shreds at my insides. I can’t look at old photos or videos. I’m a pathetic jumble of emotions and dysfunction.

I’ll put on a mask, walk outdoors, buy groceries, attend classes ~ almost fooling myself into believing that I’m enjoying life. Later, I see it was a temporary situation.

I’ve been enjoying the embalming cases I’ve worked in the prep room. Though I wonder how much of that is adding stress to my life. I dreamed I died last night. I drowned in my car. Bubble, bubble . . . . I was surprised that when I took a deep breath underwater, I felt no pain. I was transported to a different environment. Always being tested on my behavior by “those in charge,” who could decide to banish me into an existence of pain. I cheated – doing things to help other women in my same position. Getting them food, etc. Very sad and stressful dream. I can’t even escape anxiety in my sleep. I evidentally don’t stop nurturing in my sleep, either.

I suppose I’ve now cried enough to release this episode of pain. Do I post this or erase it? My therapy. I’ll post it. Writing is a release. Publishing is just metaphorically sending this pain into cyberspace. Feels good.

Be gone, grief. Be gone, sadness. Be gone, hopelessness. Be gone, apathy.

Be gone – everything just BE GONE.

-send-

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5 thoughts on “Cry and Send

  1. One thing I’ve learned about depression is that it creates in your mind a state of illusion in a sense. Your brain cells are compromised right now. You’re not thinking straight because you can’t. Your brain won’t let you. But it always passes in time. You may think you want to end it all now but it’s just your mind playing tricks on you. Don’t fall for it and accept this part of yourself as the part that makes you stronger in the end.
    Your dream is about your control. Drowning in your car means you feel you’ve lost control in some aspect of your life. But water in a dream is a very spiritual thing. You took the deep breath, not to drown more quickly, but to save yourself by observing that more spiritual side of yourself. That’s why it felt so good. Stop, regroup, put everything else aside for a while, and center yourself. People with depression are lucky in one way. We get constant messages from our exhausted souls that it’s time to rest and revitalize. Others don’t get that message and slowly kill themselves without realizing. We’re the strong, insightful ones. Don’t ever forget that.

  2. Raine,
    Your comment moves me. I always think of myself as damaged b/c of the depression. I am embarrassed when others learn of the disorder. I don’t want to be “the woman with . . .” y’know? However, I have several new friends (and a few old ones) who don’t seem to feel that way at all. They are supportive, understanding, and appear to let the bad days pass without keeping score. What blessings they are. And my mother and daughter and daughter-in-love 🙂 are three of my four biggest encouragers. My dear boyfriend is the fourth. So, when this bout of helpless/hopeless is gone, I’ll focus on your comment we are the strong and insightful ones. You made my day, Raine. I’m very glad I found your blog and you. XO

  3. I hope you sleep peacfully tonight. Glad I saw your post. Been there and done that and have the t-shirt to prove it. I don’t have any wise words right now, but I “listened” through your writing.

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