I can’t explain the depression and the grief that imprint upon my heart an underlying ache; at least, not very succinctly. A friend tells me that I have several good reasons that would give anyone cause to sulk or weep. If she says so, okay.
But I can’t stand far enough away to see; my eyes are blinded by the blur surrounding me. In fact, it is one very huge blur. The smaller, individual components are no longer identifiable; nor are yesterday’s priorities. Today, it is enough that I recognize the colors around me for what they are: a kaleidoscope of unbelievably deep, jewel tones representing an emotional whirlpool. As in a dream, I can’t find my way around or out.
Crying would be great. I know I want to cry but don’t ask me to explain why. Just believe me when I tell you I know. Yes, I know. But I can’t; and won’t. My rules won’t let me.
I think I’m crashing, so as I have done after any big crisis, my inner voice is giving me permission to quietly crash. Emphasis is on quietly, which in my rules really means to not draw attention to oneself. Remember, others have far greater mountains to climb…
Thus far, all I can voice is a meek “Help.” I hear it repeatedly come from my lips, even in the middle of a simple task…”Help.” And when someone within earshot wants to know what I need help with, I can’t answer. It is enough consolation that I can still be heard…or will be heard…should I ever need to be heard.
What do I physically need? Nothing; I have the blessings of a warm home within which a pantry and the makings of a great meal are there in easy reach. I have clean clothes, a myriad of colorful pins and scarves from which to choose a rainbow of combinations; I can fake style as well as anyone! I have family and friends who care about me. My health is generally good.
Straighten up! What is wrong with you? Go outside and find something to do. The messages of old still ring out, but the choices are old, too. So, I choose to stay inside, away from brighter sun rays that might uncover my quiet despair beneath a carefully honed smile.
It is better that I adjust my focus solely on good things. I shall begin.
I begin by methodically reminding myself that loved ones are on the mend; that good friends are seeking treatment and under care; and, while I’ve not a song in my heart yet again, the melody will eventually return to draft an entirely new chorus of praise and gratitude for His gifts. Remembering what a good person is supposed to do when facing any veil of tears, I put myself on autopilot.
I smile. I joke. I laugh and see the irony in the mundane. I am grateful for lots of things; especially today, I am grateful I am not a groundhog, surrounded by funny old men in top hats and tails, disturbing my real quest for another beginning, another spring…