It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life."
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I have a kind of unease, a prickly sensation, a coldness in my bones when I’m around a certain type of easy chatter superficial back and forth embedded in a distancing a loved one doing their best to fake it to cover up pain I grew up reading the room weighing the change in tone hearing the false perkiness masking exhaustion giving up hollow
A dear friend is ensnared with depression. I have watched it build in recent years. Who knows the root? A frightening diagnosis from a doctor, perhaps. Recovery that feels less than complete, perhaps. The loneliness and fear of the pandemic, perhaps. I don’t know, I can’t possibly know. Is it ever one thing sending us tumbling into this hard sad numbness?
We women of a certain age often speak about ‘not letting ourselves go,’ trying to age with strength. We mean this mostly in the physical sense and we share about our morning stretching routines, daily walks, or a new fun exercise class. Being with this dear person, all these daily routines feel so foolish and inadequate. Depression is a poison, permeating the body, turning routines into mush. There is no ability to engage, to have a project or a pastime, to enjoy a long walk. An eerie distancing from all and everything.
Every outreach I make feels useless, a band aid when someone is hemorrhaging. I feel myself losing her. She is hurting and I am struggling, too.
an unknown invisible misery weaves within you spreading mysteriously in ways unforeseen leaving you so troubled pulsating with fear and anxiety I do not understand you so bold and beautiful now sitting in sad eerie silence bereft of oomph or desire where have you gone, dear one? how might I help you move forward in the dark?
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Maureen,
This is so heartbreaking. I worry about depression setting in as I age, and I know myself well enough to know sharing about it is something I won’t do. I don’t trust people in general. And I’m curious: Is this friend the one who moved recently? I remember all you did for her in the house search. I do hope that move isn’t now a regret.
Thank you, Glenda. This is not my friend who moved recently; in fact, my friend who moved is really a role model for taking good risks, making changes that life needs. How I wish my other friend had just a bit of this verve.
To describe the pain of another is a difficult task. The fact that you take this on and wonder aloud about how you might be there for your friend about whom you care so deeply gives your slice a heft and authenticity that makes the situation legible to the reader. Depression needs to be talked about and better understood. So many suffer and your slice, also through the use of poetic passages bring us closer to the heart of the matter than we might otherwise venture on our own.
Thank you so much, Sherri. I totally agree with you that “depression needs to be talked about and better understood;” it is important to bring this illness into the light.
“I grew up reading the room…” I love how you give some context to how YOU are feeling as well as how your friend is feeling. It is sometimes hard to be the room reader. Your writing shows how intuitive you are. The way you bookend your slice with 2 different poems is brilliant. I wonder how your friend would feel if you shared it with her?
Thank you, Carol. I have been wondering if I dare share this writing with her. As I wrote, I did feel a growing conviction that I need to be more clear with her about how much I love and care for her.
Oh so hard to be the witness, Maureen. You capture the desolation of the pit so well. I hope your friend finds comfort in your presence and strength to seek care.
Yes, Lee Ann, great terminology – “the desolation of the pit.” Thank you for this!
Thinking of you and your friend. Depression is scary and so hard to deal with. I do hope you can find a way to support her through this journey. Just keeping in contact is a start. Wishing all well!
Thank you, Joanne – that’s really my work, I think, to continue to be there, alongside her. Keeping up the good connection.
Loving someone with depression is incredibly complicated. Take care of yourself, too, in your quest to help ease their burden. find space, for yourself, to seek and feel joy. The poetry here is exquisite….words with such power.
Thank you so much. My journey pales to hers, but I agree with you – I need to continue to take good care of me.
So many thoughts, Maureen when I read this. The easy thing is to point out the powerful writing as Stacey suggested today, so, the easy thing: “tumbling into this hard, sad numbness” how perfectly the barren is described; “Depression is a poison…An eerie distancing from all and everything” word choice toxicity of “poison” and haunting with “eerie; finally, “a bandaid when someone is hemorrhaging,” captures the core of futility when we are faced with the limits of our love to truly help another.
The hard thing is this is happening with a family member now, and…Thank you for finding words and sharing them.
Thank you, Trish; I know I am not alone – there are so many who suffer from depression. They all need our support and love.
The opening poem uses contrast that convey the outer facade and what might be happening inside – and you repeat this idea with the use of “perhaps” at the end of a series of sentences. I found this incredibly effective because it maintains that liminal space of not knowing while holding empathy for the depressed friend.
Thank you, Melanie. I am in a liminal space, wanting to help her, not knowing what to do, and understanding how hard things are for her.
Wow. Very powerful words. Depression is such an evil thief. You expressed your feelings so well.
Thank you – depression is truly a thief.
This is hard. Your friend is lucky to have you.
Thank you. She is surrounded by lots of good love, more than just me, and I am hopeful that this lifts her, in time.
Maureen, that sentiment about offering a band-aid when someone is hemorrhaging is so on point, My father suffered from severe clinical depression back in the early 1990s, and I remember my mother feeling so helpless when it came to helping him. Depression is a concern I have as it is all over my paternal side of the tree. Your friend is fortunate to have you there standing ready to help, and you are a blessing and an angel for being there.
Thank you, Kim – depression is terrifying and debilitating. My mother had depression; it is a difficult experience for all the family and friends.
Maureen, that sentiment about offering a band-aid when someone is hemorrhaging is so on point, My father suffered from severe clinical depression back in the early 1990s, and I remember my mother feeling so helpless when it came to helping him. Depression is a concern I have as it is all over my paternal side of the tree. Your friend is fortunate to have you there standing ready to help, and you are a blessing and an angel for being there.
I’m so glad you’re sharing this struggle, which I’m sure feels personal, but really, really resonates with me. Without knowing it, you’ve created a “mirror” moment, and I’m grateful for your words – not because they offer a solution, but because of the comfort of not being alone. Thank you.
Starting and ending with poetry is really a beautiful way of bookending your words — and the words themselves are powerful. It’s so hard to be depressed and it is so hard to love someone who is depressed. I am glad you are writing about it —- both because that writing may help you process and also because the writing is a gift to others trying to process.
Oh, Maureen, the pain is so real and raw. Your word choice has captured so much. I appreciate the acknowledgement of how “all these daily routines feel so foolish and inadequate.” Your two poems are bookends of beauty around a painful and debilitating malady. Thank you for sharing. Have you had a chance to read Melanie’s post inspired today by yours: https://reflectingonrecreation.com/2024/03/03/taking-inspiration-3-31-sol2024/