01/27/12
As always, to my very, very special, and wonderful friends, and constant loyal readers,
Although my heart is always full, in gratitudefor all your demonstrated caring, kindness, and support, without which, I think I truly would be lost, I know I can never thank you in near-full measure.
You cannot know how much your PM's; hugs; and comments to my diary mean to me, for I am quite unused to such caring, although I treasure it.
My entry--today--will be a composite one, based upon a letter I earlier wrote to my dear friend, 'mabri', and of things I wish to speak to you about.
For some time, now, in addition to the ususal allotment of often unbearable pain ( from which there is no escape, save for pain pills, and praying, and--of course--no little regard to YOU, for how wonderful you have been to me ), I have also been gripped by small panic attacks that unsettle me, and a giant cloud of blackest depression that saps all my will, and further very much limits the scope of my endeavor.
I think I come by these depressive states naturally, as eveidently passed-down through the maternal, famial line; to wit: my grandmother in her youth, required two stays at what they then referred to as a 'rest home' ; my dear mother, AND her older sister were pagued by bouts of deepest depresion; my mother--at one time--was hospitalized for it for six weeks in 1970; and, mom also had a cousin, who was so depressive, that--for weeks--as I've been told, he could not even get out of bed. And so, I would not doubt that genetics play a sigificant part to this, and many other illnesses.
However...having thus said that, I must tell you that these 'blackest' of depressions are not so easily resolved; sometimes, it just takes time for me to cycle out if it...slowly, and then, I have to work at it.
And..having crawled by often bleeding hands up and out of this endless abyss, this may no doubt sound odd, but I then experience a period of what I cannot but describe as 'depression hangover', as the depression does not leave all at once, and along with 'insipient, Migraine hangovers', they are not--in fact unlike severe, alcohol-inspired hangovers, as I still feel weak, with motivation lacking, and with a mind fog so intense, that it feels as if my very brain is full of cotton, and is--in consequence--very sluggish to respond to thoughts, and ideation.
The title of this entry should probably be:
' While The 'Pit' ( Or Abyss ), Is So Easily Fallen Into, Crawling-Out Is Most Difficult '
There are, of course, 'triggers' that compel one to become so depressed; and while I throughly dislike the use of the phrase, " It IS What It IS', because it has become a catch-phrase, much over-used these days, perhaps, if I insert that portion of the letter I sent, it might help explain those externalaties over which one has little, or no control.
I would have to say, my dear friend, that I am completely unaccustomed to such kind generosity, without implied, or direct expectation of reciprocity; too many of my neighbors ( and, some of my ' friends ', alas ), come to me, with both hands stretched out; for what they would often want to 'do' for me, comes with it an implicit price tag; many times, this is so transparently craven, that, it still amazes me. I think, because I get SSDI, but hardly go anywhere, and do not work, nor punch a time-clock, that my SSDI is as 'free money', and that I am a convenient ( and, apparently, bottomless ) 'bank' to them, whenever they need cash.
For example, my neighbor will go shoppping for groceries for me ( when she does plan to go to the store ), but, in tacit payment for her services, I usually tell her to buy what she might serve her family for dinner that night, my treat. And yesterday, while my grocery tab came to something like #125.00, $22.00 of it, were for things for her. It is something I am used to; as it is the 'price' that must always be paid. In verity, dear Becky, I would not expect her to shop for me for free; there must--the equivalent--of gasoline, and time involved to be accounted for. And...at least, if I DO pay for her trip is lke goods, then I do not feel guilty in asking her to shop for me, when she goes.
Then, there are the more blatant offers of 'services-for-cash'; although I have put it off, as its too early in the year, already, a neighbor has been bothering me to come and mow my yard for $30.00. Funny, but, this was the SAME neighbor who 'cooks' one hot meal for me a day for $100.00 a month; and yet, to take, and later pick up Daisy to the vet's ( about, perhaps, 4 miles away, each way, she would not take her for any less than $20.00, which of course, is 'highway robbery', and paid--in part--her gasoline for the coming week. We BOTH know that.
Sometimes...her conception of a 'hot meal' has been, two double cheeseburgers from McDonald's, or, two burritos for Taco Bell, or ( should they have gone to a restaurant the night before, and I am serious, dear 1 ), I get the contents of their 'doggie bags', or--and I shudder to think of it-- whatever remained on their plates.
And, sometimes, when she's too 'tired', or had a 'rough day', she brings nothing to me, telephoning, instead, to see if I can 'get by' for that night. Of course I can, dear, and do subtract that from the $100.00 I give her for the month. We have roughly reckoned up abut $3.30, a day, for one meal.
And yet...some time ago, when she was $200.00 short of her mortgage payment ( and, noneof her three sons would gie or loan it to her, guess what ? It was to me she came. Of course I loaned it to her, with the proviso that the next two months of meals would cost me nothing.
And, while, dear Becky, I fully expect to pay for services that I can no longer, or no longer want to do, as I understand that this is how the world works, the more insidious, blatant, 'fox-in-the-henhouse', bright-button-eyed look of purest greed does set me back; and to most of these prospects, I just say no.
And so, dearest friend, I am humbled, and surprised, being quite unaccustomed to kind generosity that does not come with a price tag attached to it.
That was why that absolutely beautiful gift basket sent to me from the 'Agoraphobia Group' at holiday time, made me cry; it was completely unexpected, demanded mo payment, and,for a long while, I could hardly believe that such caring did exist...that I truly did not feel worthy of, yet, I shall treasure that gift in my sweetest memories for as long as I draw breath.
Since ever I was first declared disabled in 2002, my life has--perforce--been filled by a succession of 'takers' and 'users', and while the scope of their ususery sometimes floored me with its base greediness, I realized that I would have to pay for all those things I could no longer do myself.
Last night, I went to bed much earlier than my want, and slept patchily, with interrupted wakenings to let Daisy out, or, being roughly dragged to the surface of consciousness by dreams of nightmare that went on, and on. Or, bathroom calls.
And--of course--woke early, still in a world of pain, with a continued headache as a spike through my left eye, and beyond, across the side, and top of my head.
Though my dear friend, the black depression that has gripped me for this long time, now, is lightening--as last--I do believe.
Let us be in accord: sometimes Life gangs up on me, and I feel most helpless bfore its inexorable onslaught; much of it revolves around things that I cannot change, or things quite beyond my wishes, or control.
And since I have a maternal familial tendency towards black depression, I cannot vouchsafe that I will not always be cut-off at the knees by it; what I CAN do, is think about the scale and scope of genuine caring, and support from all my friends at MDJunction; step-up my prayer of true grateful thanksgiving; remember the love my mother and father had/have for me; hope with in heart, that, somehow, I may thus help another; consentrate onmaking my diary entries less about me, and my pain,and more about things that might prove to be of some help; give thanks for the few, 'outside' genuine friends that I have left; and give my dearst Daisy some extra, needed attention.
For example, my neighbor will go shoppping for groceries for me ( when she does plan to go to the store ), but, in tacit payment for her services, I usually tell her to buy what she might serve her family for dinner that night, my treat. And yesterday, while my grocery tab came to something like #125.00, $22.00 of it, were for things for her. It is something I am used to; as it is the 'price' that must always be paid. In verity, dear Becky, I would not expect her to shop for me for free; there must--the equivalent--of gasoline, and time involved to be accounted for. And...at least, if I DO pay for her trip is lke goods, then I do not feel guilty in asking her to shop for me, when she goes.
Then, there are the more blatant offers of 'services-for-cash'; although I have put it off, as its too early in the year, already, a neighbor has been bothering me to come and mow my yard for $30.00. Funny, but, this was the SAME neighbor who 'cooks' one hot meal for me a day for $100.00 a month; and yet, to take, and later pick up Daisy to the vet's ( about, perhaps, 4 miles away, each way, she would not take her for any less than $20.00, which of course, is 'highway robbery', and paid--in part--her gasoline for the coming week. We BOTH know that.
Sometimes...her conception of a 'hot meal' has been, two double cheeseburgers from McDonald's, or, two burritos for Taco Bell, or ( should they have gone to a restaurant the night before, and I am serious, dear 1 ), I get the contents of their 'doggie bags', or--and I shudder to think of it-- whatever remained on their plates.
And, sometimes, when she's too 'tired', or had a 'rough day', she brings nothing to me, telephoning, instead, to see if I can 'get by' for that night. Of course I can, dear, and do subtract that from the $100.00 I give her for the month. We have roughly reckoned up abut $3.30, a day, for one meal.
And yet...some time ago, when she was $200.00 short of her mortgage payment ( and, noneof her three sons would gie or loan it to her, guess what ? It was to me she came. Of course I loaned it to her, with the proviso that the next two months of meals would cost me nothing.
And, while, dear Becky, I fully expect to pay for services that I can no longer, or no longer want to do, as I understand that this is how the world works, the more insidious, blatant, 'fox-in-the-henhouse', bright-button-eyed look of purest greed does set me back; and to most of these prospects, I just say no.
And so, dearest friend, I am humbled, and surprised, being quite unaccustomed to kind generosity that does not come with a price tag attached to it.
That was why that absolutely beautiful gift basket sent to me from the 'Agoraphobia Group' at holiday time, made me cry; it was completely unexpected, demanded mo payment, and,for a long while, I could hardly believe that such caring did exist...that I truly did not feel worthy of, yet, I shall treasure that gift in my sweetest memories for as long as I draw breath.
Since ever I was first declared disabled in 2002, my life has--perforce--been filled by a succession of 'takers' and 'users', and while the scope of their ususery sometimes floored me with its base greediness, I realized that I would have to pay for all those things I could no longer do myself.
Last night, I went to bed much earlier than my want, and slept patchily, with interrupted wakenings to let Daisy out, or, being roughly dragged to the surface of consciousness by dreams of nightmare that went on, and on. Or, bathroom calls.
And--of course--woke early, still in a world of pain, with a continued headache as a spike through my left eye, and beyond, across the side, and top of my head.
Though my dear friend, the black depression that has gripped me for this long time, now, is lightening--as last--I do believe.
Let us be in accord: sometimes Life gangs up on me, and I feel most helpless bfore its inexorable onslaught; much of it revolves around things that I cannot change, or things quite beyond my wishes, or control.
And since I have a maternal familial tendency towards black depression, I cannot vouchsafe that I will not always be cut-off at the knees by it; what I CAN do, is think about the scale and scope of genuine caring, and support from all my friends at MDJunction; step-up my prayer of true grateful thanksgiving; remember the love my mother and father had/have for me; hope with in heart, that, somehow, I may thus help another; consentrate onmaking my diary entries less about me, and my pain,and more about things that might prove to be of some help; give thanks for the few, 'outside' genuine friends that I have left; and give my dearst Daisy some extra, needed attention.
So I am particularly happy to say that--I think--that long spell of helpless depression is slowly lifting from me.
And it is to YOU, my most dear friends and readers to whom I attribute at least 90% of my assent.
In closing, please allow me to wish for YOU days of lessened, or of 'no pain'; wonderful days of rare finds and sweet surprises; quiet afternoons of healing thought and comtemplation; and, of course, balmy nights of blissful, restorative, and undisturbed rest, for sleep, as Whitman said is, " Nature's soft nurse ".
Your most kind readership, and comments remain--as ever--an unalloyed joy for me, for which I also thank you.
I love you,
'Zahc'/Charles
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