by banned » Sun Nov 13, 2005 1:30 am
...and have had to deal with depression and "DIDNOS" and other sequelae to the incest for most of my 50+ years (I was a toddler when it happened and had my urinary tract physically injured by it, I was lied to about the cause and in my mid-30s before I realized what had really happened to me.)<br><br>Up till 9/11/2001, I actually believed that some day I would finally get to the end of my pain over the past and could truly start over, and all the positive traits I have--intelligence, tenacity, humor, creativity--would kick in and things would start working for me.<br><br>After 9/11 I had a major breakdown and for the first time I really didn't care if I recovered or not. I only put one foot in front of the other because that was a habit with me, I had survived so long when I was basically miserable, just endure, endure, endure, and little by little I would feel better and emerge from the depression and things would be OK...till the next depression hit.<br><br>It took me from November 2001 to November 2002 to even WANT to get better. I felt all my dreams were dead, the world was insane and getting worse by the day...I didn't see the point. But I kept on keeping on, mostly for my elderly cat who got sick and needed me to care for him.<br><br>Finally by spring of 2003, I was feeling halfway decently. I had friends, I had a cute little place to live (very simple, but private and all mine), I began to think things might actually work out. Oh, nothing like the big dreams I had had growing up, of making movies and writing novels and traveling all over the world. But I thought I might have a humble little life. Then in May 2003 everything blew up. I ended up throwing *16* friends (or rather "friends") out of my life over a few months, had to move, ran through the last of my savings. But I had found another nice place to live and was coming out of the funk when...a couple of sociopathic monsters moved in next door and destroyed my peaceful home, but I had no money to move. Over a year and a half the stress of dealing with their harassment has left me physically ill, emotionally strung out, and most of the time wanting to die. But I have that old kitty cat and day in, day out, I keep him alive and keeping him alive keeps me alive, though I know when he dies, there will be nothing left to get me out of bed and the temptation to turn on the gas and end it may well be more than I can resist.<br><br>But in my lucid moments, I believe there is always hope, that things CAN change for the better on a dime (unfortunately they can change for the worse on a dime too...life is unpredictable.) I know I have made amazing strides from where I was at 35 when all the things I had repressed for so many years came tumbling out after I quit drinking. Like the Velveteen Rabbit I wanted to be real, and I am: a real person, depressed though I may be, and not the successful, amnesic and anesthetized fake I used to be. Authenticity ain't no day at the beach. But in the end, who wants to live and die as a cardboard cut-out instead of whoever it is you actually are? If there is karma, presumably there was a reason for all of it, and if there isn't, the only meaning any of it has is what you give it yourself.<br><br>So, to quote Bob in "What About Bob"...baby steps. Each day, baby steps. Some days, the steps are backward, but the overall direction is onward and upward.<br><br>And yes, it DOES matter if people believe you, but even if they don't, YOU must believe you. All the things my mother tried to tell me were my 'overactive imagination' or 'something I read' turned out to be true. The fact that the only things that kept HER going (she was molested as a child by the same relative, her uncle and my great uncle) were alcohol and denial doesn't mean I have to follow suit. I don't drink and I tell the truth as I see it, and if other people can't handle that, there are several billion other people they can associate with. I don't want lies or liars in my life, not even the 'harmless' ones like "No you don't look fat in that skirt." For others who didn't grow up in a miasma of lies, not saying things like that is exercising tact. For me, the little 'polite' lies revive the habit of not looking squarely at what is in front of me, and I can't afford it. I have fewer friends now--but they ARE friends, not narcissists sucking my soul out or weaklings hiding out from their own hard truths in my "tact" aka taste for fantasy over reality, as used to be so.<br><br>I'm not a Deadhead, but "Truckin'" is a terrific anthem for those of us on a difficult path.<br><br>"Truckin - like the doodah man<br>once told me you got to play your hand<br>sometime - the cards ain't worth a dime<br>if you don't lay em down<br><br>Sometimes the light's all shining on me<br>Other times I can barely see<br>Lately it occurs to me<br>What a long strange trip it's been....<br><br>Busted - down on Bourbon Street<br>Set up - like a bowling pin<br>Knocked down - it gets to wearing thin<br>They just won't let you be<br><br>You're sick of hanging around and you'd like to travel<br>Tired of travel, you want to settle down<br>I guess they can't revoke your soul for trying<br>Get out of the door - light out and look all around<br><br>Sometimes the light's all shining on me<br>Other times I can barely see<br>Lately it occurs to me<br>what a long strange trip it's been"<br><br><br> <p></p><i></i>
