Uncertain Relief

I have heard each of the phrases: ‘breaking the surface’, ‘coming out of a tunnel’ and ‘coming out a hole’ many times over the years usually speaking of lifting depression. My post today is descriptions of what each of those could feel like to those that have suffered acute depression, and possibly even suicidal thinking. A patient of mine, a young girl, from another hospital at another time told me ‘I know my depression’. We were discussing what happened for her to have recurrent suicide attempts or frequent hospitalizations. Relapse is a phase of any chronic disease. Doing the work to ‘stay afloat’, to feel the warmth of the sun or to take part in a beautiful world in a world of painful reality is the work of those that need to be welcomed back. Here is:

Uncertain Relief

Breaking the surface of water

after nearly drowning amid

waving, leafy seaweed and sinking 

into soft welcoming mud at the bottom

surprises constricted and burning lungs

with a cleansing breath of welcome air.

Discovery that to remain afloat and keep breathing 

strikes panicked flailing and fear.

Coming out of a long long tunnel

after years of just walking and walking

in it’s comfort and dark shelter 

dripping moisture echoing and beating

a gentle kindness despite 

the scurrying of unseen companions

surprises eyes accustomed to darkness.

Discovery of life's brilliance and colour,

while coming into focus, is too sharp and painful

Coming out of a deepening hole

after years of nesting at the bottom

welcomed by the protection of solid walls

pleased with a circle light from above 

until uncomfortable and curious 

attempts to climb walls with few handholds,

digging and scraping finally creates footholds

surprise fills the senses with raucous colour and harsh birdsong

Discovering a world grown foreign is frightening, threatening to overwhelm.

“The only thing that makes life possible is permanent, 

intolerable uncertainty; not knowing what comes next.”

~ Ursula K. Le Guin

Treasuring the Hunt - or Not

Entering a book store there are often shelves, tables and maybe even stacks of puzzles. Puzzles in book form, in jigsaw form, in tactile Rubik's cube like form, Pick-Up-Sticks and Board games of strategy and word. I’ve played many of them but definitely not all of them. But there is one puzzle that I never anticipated that I would have to play - no playing, no pensions! So this is a Public Service announcement to anyone - which is most of us - applying at anytime of their life for a earned, paid for pension. Keep any document with dates all the way back to when you were born. I’m not kidding! Any kind of life change, including a change of province, country, marital or employment status.

When managing money, it is always wise to get clear identification from any person asking for a portion of that money. However, how many of us save every scrap of paper, and in an organized fashion, that has come into our hands over our life times. I had the good fortune to work in Texas for eleven years from 1988 to 1999. So, in the last several weeks I have been locating documentation that will prove that to said pension organizations. 

Beginning towards the end of May this year, I started on the trail of all the required details. In previous blog posts, I wrote about a Paper Life and Personal Archaeology. My files were strewn on every available service, except my sofa and my bed. As the weeks have gone on, these unorganized piles of folders and papers, while colourful, had become so much overwhelming clutter. This week, I have stacked up the folders. I’ve made three specific folders for each of the pensions I am applying for, including a separate folder for other information necessary to all three. My dining room table is clear - almost. Discovery of clarity out of chaos has rewarded me with a calm not felt for a long time.

When the puzzle pieces are all back in the box, or in this case documents in labelled folders, then this great, exhaustive puzzle becomes manageable. One document at a time, one phone call a day (or maybe three) and keep all the pieces in the box. When one critical piece is missing, and for any good puzzle, that will happen, find another one that fits - thus the phone calls. To Kelowna, to Lubbock, Tx, to Regina and within Victoria. So keep all your documents and file them away where you can find them: dates and places and status kept safely as part of one’s ID documentation. If you aren’t a fan of puzzles this is really important for you!

“Not every puzzle is intended to be solved. Some are in place 

to test your limits. Others are, in fact, not puzzles at all…..”

~ Vera Nazarian,  The Perpetual Calendar of Inspiration

A Childhood Memory

True story:

It was growing dusk in my small prairie hometown. The cars and pickups that had lined Main Street on both sides were gone. Everyone home for supper I suppose. I don’t know why my friend (or was it a cousin - or was I alone?) and I were in Mr. Brock’s grocery store just before he closed at six. But there we were. We were skulking - as much as two six year old’s could skulk (or were we seven). This is a memory so some of the details are kind of wavery. It must have been fall, because I was wearing a coat. Seems to me it was brown. And there it was. A bag of candy tempting me. But it was too big to slip into my pocket, so I slid it down my coat sleeve. My mistake? I chose a bag of candy with the crinkliest, noisiest cellophane on the shelf. But I was six? What did I know? We walked, very casually I’m sure, to the door to leave. We had to get home for supper or we’d really be in trouble (I still think it was two of us). Mr. Brock's voice boomed - I'm sure it boomed - from behind the till:

‘Susan, what have you got there?’

‘Nothing’

I’m sure there was more conversation but the only things I remember after that was the choice I had to make. Mr. Brock did suggest I go home and tell my mom and there’d be nothing said - or maybe he said he call mom and let her know what happened. I think that’s when I started to cry and said that I didn’t want to - I couldn’t……

‘Well then, I could call the Mounties (they were stationed a block away) to take you home to your mother.’

Then I really caved in. I desperately didn’t want to be seen in the back of a police car! It was a small town. Everyone would know! (Maybe I was by myself?) So, the next part of this memory is sitting in the living room with mom. What was said I do not recall, but I do remember a feeling of compassion. Did mom have a difficult time keeping a straight face? Probably. 

 I discovered two things from that black day in 1953 or was it fall of 1952?

        1. A life of crime was not for me.

        2. Panic attacks me when I have to speak up for myself with people in authority.

By the way, I didn’t even like the candies I appropriated - does anyone remember Chicken Bones? Yuck!

“The truth.” Dumbledore sighed. “It is a beautiful and 

terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution.”

~ J.K.Rowling, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone

Changing Scenery

This stream of consciousness story was written in a timed writing exercise (10 minutes) at this months Writing group. We were to write from a picture painted by our host’s relative. Unfortunately I neglected to get a photo of it, so have taken this one from my own photo library. I have done a bit of editing - grammar does get thrown out when it’s a timed exercise! My consciousness stream borrowed from an incident told me about a week before this was written in early June.

Changing Scenery

’The scene was idyllic. My thoughts not so much. I knew if I just convinced myself to follow the path before me I would lose myself in the gentle scenery. It had been a rough day. No, not a rough day. It had been a rough week. My home had been invaded by workers. My dishwasher had sprung a leak and when the repairman came to assess the damage, he discovered a slow leak that had finally burst one of the hoses. How long it had been leaking he couldn’t tell. I had to move out of my house while they replaced my entire kitchen floor. The only thing available was a squalid little motel on the other side of town. It just made my heart break. But, I’m tough. I took a deep breath and turned away from my home and the motel. On my way to the motel, I passed an RV lot with big RENT ME signs plastered against the fences surrounding the lot. I wheeled in and rented the first one that I was shown. I had to take my car home but returned by taxi. And now here I was in this peaceful and idyllic spot, away from the city, on time off from my job and away from my kitchen mess. The deep breath I took as I settled in the campsite was cool and smelled of summer leaves. The rough edges of my week were softened. I shut off my cell phone and put it away’……………(timer rang!)

“A change of scenery can help everything.”

~ Drew Pomeranz

Image and Voice

Youthfulness has left me behind ~ 

In body

see the wrinkles on my skin

gathered over years of sweat, strain, laughter and tears.

See my posture

once straight and sure

now the straightness must be reminded

when I step from my bed.

See the veins on my hands

once hidden in youth, revealing themselves

carrying good red blood coursing life through my body

Youthfulness has left me behind ~ 

In mind

Dwindling some call it

A gap, a black hole - once familiar words no longer exist

taken flight into nether regions of my mind, 

Hear my thoughts

that come out garbled at unexpected moments

in unfortunate ways, eliciting laugher or derision ~

like the youthfulness of a toddler learning the new world

or of a senior unlearning a world that has become old.

Hear my voice

croaking each morning, once clear and strong

sounding weak and uncertain in the early morn ~

yet hear my youthful laughter 

sounding joy over things that, once filled with gravity,

today are lighter than the air that we breathe

Youthfulness has left me behind ~ 

In heart

My heart, still worn on my sleeve, is

shadowed deeply by the layers of the years

softened in places and grown a thick skin in others

allowing me to survive all the arrows from within and without

and still discover love, laughter and life within my world.

Youthfulness has left me behind ~ except ~

My soul 

Never wavering 

rejoices in all that life has given me.

There have been times I have shied away

afraid yet wanting to move forward but once rested and confident

again have returned to more fully accept the gift of family.

My soul, always the rudder, 

has steered my sometimes unsteady ship 

into quieter water and then into the current of life

beside and with the rest of the of the world.

“Growing old is humbling and it takes effort 

to accomplish this stage of life with dignity.”

 ~ Kilroy J. Oldster,  Dead Toad Scrolls

When in Doubt: Cook Something

What does one do when walking long walks are not on the agenda?

Slow short walks are ok.

Sitting in the sun at Starbucks and 

visiting with a friend is lovely.

But in the afternoon

when life settles into quiet?

Bake cookies! 

- and get my feet up after

discovering  a new recipe - 

The Best Gingersnap cookie recipe

with a snap from the ginger and 

a crisp to the cookie - two hours for the real crisp to set in.

(so says the recipe)

Taste tester approved before the two hours were up!

“No cry because cookie is finished. Smile because cookie happened.”

~ Cookie Monster, 

The Joy of Cookies: Cookie Monster’s Guide to Life. 

Recipe at:  seriouseats.com  

‘The Best Gingersnaps Recipe’ 

Body Talks

Respect your body. Listen to your body. Two phrases we’ve all heard over many years. I feel I have been pretty good at that. Now it’s time to dig deeper for just a little more respect and listening. Nothing serious at all. In fact to look at my foot, it look perfectly normal. No swelling, no bruising and no redness - and I'll not bless you with a photo of my foot. The solution, accompanying the message, is to not put any weight on the poor dear. Did I break a teeny tiny bone in my foot? And if I did, when did I do it? Getting an x-ray for a big - or little - reveal may not tell me anything. Discovering the why of the ‘no weight bearing’, will not change the message. Given it’s my foot, discovering the why of the ‘no weight bearing’, will not change the solution, either. But I'll see the doctor tomorrow anyway. 

“There is always the question why 

And there is always life, 

which doesn’t need an answer.”

~ Dejan Stojanovic

Discovery ~ #2

Enthusiasm builds 

gradually from a slow burn 

into a pulsing energy

infusing all with a rosy hue

bright lights discover nuances

sparkling shades of meaning 

in a varied life.

“It’s faith in something and enthusiasm for 

something that makes a life worth living.”

~ Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr.