Stands With A Fist

For my friend Cathy, She is “like an old lover who refuses to fade into the past.” She sits on the couch and whispers to Cathy in a soft voice.

That’s not how She is with me. She‘s like a Blue Norther (a weather experience that any Texan knows) swooping down unexpectedly. Oh, you know She can come along any time, but you can never predict just when She might arrive. When She hits, all you can do is hunker down and hope to withstand Her force. She‘s loud and violent and smashes me to the ground with Her fury. I watch wide eyed with terror as She envelopes me and batters me. I’m as helpless as a newborn kitten, and all I can do is hope to have the strength to withstand Her. And, when She is gone, She leaves blue skies behind. Everything is clean and fresh, and I hardly know She has been there.

That’s how Depression comes to me.

I’ve known Her all my life, but not by Her true name. When I was young, She was called “Moodiness,” and She was attributed to that dreaded monthly cycle. That made Her slightly more predictable; but the days of those cycles are gone with the wind.

Mr. X unfairly burdened my youngest son with guilt by telling him that I “changed” after I birthed him, because I suffered Postpartum Depression. It’s true that I did suffer severely for a time. It was not the child’s fault that Depression came to me, nor is it his fault that his father and I came to a parting of the ways. Yet he believes it is, because that is what his father implied. No. She has always been a part of my life. An unwelcome guest.

Don’t tell me to take medication to subdue Her. I’ve gone that route before. The medication only dulls my perception of Her, but She is still there. The little pills either give me severe nightmares or turn me into an emotional zombie. I’d rather feel, thank you, even if the feelings aren’t pleasant. The side effects are worse for me than She is.

In the past, I’ve let Her get the best of me. I responded with the instinctive urge to curl into a fetal position and hide under the covers. I withdrew from everything I loved, just hoping that She would go away; I was just hoping that I could endure until She chose to leave. She comes and goes at times of Her own choosing.

I say that She is unpredictable, but that isn’t really so. Her power is greatest when the days shorten and the skies are clabbered with clouds. Of course, that coincides with the Yuletide season, which I also find depressing. The media has conditioned me to long for a “Norman Rockwell” type of Christmas that never was and never will be in my family. And, November is the most difficult month of all, for it is a month that signifies loss for me in many ways. There are too many “death anniversaries” in that month. It’s also the month that I work the hardest and am away from the comfort of my home for most of the month. Exhaustion, darkness, and disillusionment all open the door for Her.

She has come to me now. She careened out of the sky wailing like a banshee.

I’ve got news for Her; I’ve decided to emulate that character in the movie “Dances With Wolves.”

Just call me “Stands With A Fist.”

I’m ready to face Her with defiance. I’m going to stare Her down.

Other posts you might enjoy:

1. Depression Hurts. Walk This Way.
2. Know When To Fold ‘Em
3. Empty Words
4. Meditation To Relieve Stress
5. Too Good To Be True, and The Power of Story

Tagged as: life