bluegreen17: (Default)
a friend on fb was talking about having a favorite table at starbucks and i left this long comment which i like enough to reproduce here:

i used to have a favorite seat in the breakroom at work at b&n...can't remember if i glared,but it threw me off if someone else sat there. one of my workbuddies said if i didn't sit there,the world wouldn't be anchored properly. he understood! then they started moving the tables around in a different configuration and later took away the desk i had in the back room to work on. no wonder i had two nervous breakdowns resulting in my 'early retirement'*. that's actually symbolic of all the other work changes that were done definitely not to enhance employees lives and put me over the edge beyond my coping mechanisms of my lifelong depression and anxiety!

*early retirement meaning applying for and now living in poverty on ssdi. i'm 'lucky' i was able to work for thirty years despite my disabilities so i was actually able to get it. it isn't enough,and neither will my regular social security be when i get it,because my anxiety and depression issues limited what jobs i could do,and after trying one managerial job that was too much for me,i had low paying jobs in retail without trying to move up. i also started out with a b.a. in history to spring me to an entry level social services job,which i found for the same reasons...anxiety and depression...i couldn't really do and be functional,so i turned to working in retail,mostly bookstores,because i love reading. that is my saga. part of it,anyway!
bluegreen17: (aurora by solarfields)
Originally posted by [livejournal.com profile] the_bloggess at It comes around…and around

It was the second day at Disney World when I realized it.  Hailey was laughing her seven-year-old ass off as Victor spun us on the tea cups until we finally cried whiplash.  The weather was gloomy and occasionally hurricaney (that’s a word.  Stop judging me) but we were at Disney World and so everything was magical.  Except in my head.  I enjoyed myself and I’m so glad we did it, but the second day I realized that my peripheral vision was fading and that’s always a sign that a bout of depression is looming down toward me.


I was fine the first day.  I was tired the next.  The third day I wanted nothing other than to stay in bed, but instead I faked it.  I still enjoyed seeing Hailey so happy.  I still appreciated being able to spend real time with my family.  I still functioned.  I’m still functioning.


Maybe this time I’ll be able to fool myself into staving off a severe bout.  Maybe it was just a fluke and it will all pass quickly.  Maybe I just postponed the inevitable depression that will hit me any moment.  I don’t really know.


But what I do know is that I’m going to be okay.  I know that depression lies.  I know that I’ll be in this black hole again and again in my life.  I also know I’ll see daylight soon.  The spinning continues…in both good ways and bad.



I realize how incongruous that picture is in a post about depression but it’s also pretty incongruous that some of the funniest people I know suffer from mental illness so all bets are off.


But there was one thing I wanted to share.  At one point the ride we’d been waiting on was closed because a terrible rainstorm broke out so we ran for cover and hid under the monorail for some shelter.  It was fairly miserable and all I could think about it how I wanted to be dry and in bed and how I felt bad for Hailey that she was stuck in a closed park with no access to rides and that’s when I noticed that she was having the most fun she’d had all day just jumping in the enormous puddles and catching rain in her mouth.  Rain that had dripped off the monorail and probably gave her cholera, but still…she was so damn furiously happy.  She took what came at her and made it into joy.


This isn’t a post about forcing yourself to just smile and “be happy” because anyone with true depression knows this isn’t an option.  Instead, it’s about the good things that can come out of the bad.  In the past 5 years I’ve received 20 emails that I keep in a very special folder.  They are all from people who were looking suicide right in the face.  They are all from people who are still here now.  Mothers and fathers and daughters and sons who are still alive because of this blog.  And not because of my posts.  They’re alive because they saw the incredibly response to my posts.  They saw thousands of other people saying “Me too.”  ”I thought it was just me.”  ”I thought I was alone.  But I’m not.”  And that - that sense of community – convinced them what their mind could not…that depression lies.  That you can find help.  That therapy and medication and support can change lives.  And I want to thank you for that.  I want to thank you from the family and friends of 20 people whose lives you saved.


And I want to thank you for reminding me every day that depression does lie.  I want to thank you for telling me that it’s okay when I have a week when I simply can’t be funny.  But mostly I want to thank you because there are 20 people out there today who wouldn’t be in this world if it weren’t for you.  There are 20 more of us.  And that’s a good thing.  So maybe there’s a reason why I have depression.  And maybe it’s to help someone else.  And maybe there’s a reason you do too.  And maybe you saved a life without even knowing it.  Thank you.


This post isn’t about depression.


It’s about laughing in spite of the rain.


It’s about laughing because of the rain.

Profile

bluegreen17: (Default)
bluegreen17

July 2017

S M T W T F S
      1
234 5678
9101112131415
16171819202122
23242526272829
3031     

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Jul. 25th, 2017 12:39 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios