Dangling my feet…

I was sad.

No. Like really sad. So sad that getting out of bed each day felt Herculean. So sad that my physical body began to feel pain…joint pain, stiffness, sore spots, itchy skin. So sad that I rejected human touch and shied away from anyone standing too close to me. The kind of sad that eventually overwhelms you to the point that your brain stops buzzing with ideas and goes pretty silent. Eerily silent.

That kind of sad.

I don’t expect everyone to understand because not everyone has had that kind of depression. But a lot of people have. And a lot of people have gotten up…despite the Herculean effort of it all…and gone to work, taken children to school, cooked dinner, given the presentation, and and and…

A couple of manipulative bullies, one really ambivalent man, a disinterested “human resources” manager and a office full of people going on about their business without any acknowledgement (or in some cases knowledge) of my hurt, pushed me up against a wall. And for the first time in well over 15 years, I couldn’t climb the wall. I couldn’t even reach for the rope that those who loved me threw down. Instead I sat, with my back against the wall…first in a panic and then in silence.

My dearest friends climbed the wall from the other side and sat with me…quietly. Getting me tea. Bringing me snacks. Offering to stroll around in the mud with me for a bit. Small kindnesses. Big meaning.

Yesterday (Sunday, June 12th) I climbed the wall.

I’m not over it yet. Just sitting up here dangling my legs for a bit. I can’t look over my shoulder, because that side of the wall is a pit that I can’t imagine climbing back down into. And I can’t quite see the forward side of the wall yet. The clouds are low and I’m being very careful to just look at my feet.

But my dangling toes are painted the prettiest shade of pink.

I think I’ll just sit here a while until I’m strong enough to move forward. It’s nice up here on the wall…and it’s a start.