I began this blog as a way to share things about me that most people do not know. To express my thoughts and emotions .....to free myself. To maybe, have my offspring of generations to come to know me better. To let others know....they are not alone.
A demon, if you will; plagues me. I saw this ugly monster in others that I have loved and now gone from us. I see it in my children and grandchildren. It's a thief that robs your joy, your happiness.
It's a science that medical doctors still know so little about.....the "sadness" deep within, which we so easily call.....depression.
You never know when it's coming or how long it's staying. Sometimes, you feel like you want to cry, or scream, or run away; that no one cares nor "really" wants to.
For if you share, they need to "listen"...and who really wants to listen much these days?
I have always prided myself on being the "listener". Once I remember a pastor's wife gave me a poem about listening......
‘LISTEN’
When I ask you to listen to me
And you start giving me advice,
You have not done what I asked.
When I ask you to listen to me
And you begin to tell me ‘why’ I shouldn’t feel that way,
You are trampling on my feelings.
When I ask you to listen to me
And you feel you have to do something to
solve my problems,
You have failed me, strange as that may seem.
Listen! All I ask is that you listen;
Not talk, nor do – just hear me.
And I can do for myself – I’m not helpless
Maybe discouraged and faltering, but not helpless.
When you do something for me, that I can
and need to do for myself,
You contribute to my fear and weakness.
But when you accept as a simple fact that I do feel what I feel,
No matter how irrational
Then I quit trying to convince you
And can get about the business of understanding
What’s behind this irrational feeling.
When that’s clear,
The answers are obvious and I don’t need advice.
Irrational feelings make sense when we
Understand what’s behind them.
Perhaps that’s why prayer works sometimes for
some people;
because God is mute, and doesn’t give
advice to try to ‘fix’ things,
He/She just listens, and lets you work it out
for yourself.
So please listen, and just hear me, and if you
want to talk,
Wait a minute for your turn,
And I’ll listen to you.
I do believe medicines do help and we should try that route. It does help me; but it's still there. I wonder how genetic it really is? I know it is.
I notice that the older I get; the more I ponder things. How memories can haunt you; wrong decisions; happenings; regrets; missed opportunities.....
How I am "so" much like my mother...the good and the bad. And like my father. Yes, I do miss them gravely.
I remember when I was young dreaming and wishing it was real. But I don't know why.
