THE BLACK FOG LIFTED

I awoke feeling different this morning.  The blanket of depression no longer covered my head, weighing down my whole body.

Something had lifted from me.  I breathed in the lightness as I made my way from my bed to the bathroom.  I splashed water on my face with effortless ease, so different from the usual weight and lethargy of the past few weeks.  I breathed deeply of the cool air around me.  Even the air was lighter!

Anyone who has ever suffered with depression knows how very physical is its manifestation in the body.   It also affects the mind and the emotions.  Everything seems to be colored black and weighed down. 

For weeks now I've grieved multiple losses:  a brother, a neighbor, a full-time job, and a good friend in Nashville who was my age when she died a couple of weeks ago.  So much in my life has changed in a short period of time.  Then the coronavirus pandemic hit, forcing all of us into social isolation and fear of what the future might hold.  Everywhere I go people are gripped in fear and uncertainty.  No hugs are allowed.

Without hugs and alone, is it any wonder the depression settled over me like a black fog?

As the weeks progressed, the depression deepened.  It felt like a blanket had descended over me  The blanket weighed me down and made the air all around me feel stagnant.  It zapped all my energies.  Just putting one foot in front of the other was an effort.  My whole body ached and my joints seemed inflamed.  Even walking was painful.  It felt like I was dragging around a ball and chain.

But this morning the ball and chain is gone.

Do I dare hope that the depression has lifted?  Will not return?

It has held me in its grip for weeks.  When I quit my job, I resumed teaching Qi Gong to my neighbors at Canterbury House in the early morning every day.  What a blessing!  Although it required a great effort, this daily routine was extremely important, as was being with others who are committed to their health.  But last week our executive director curtailed all activities in our building due to the pandemic.  Now there was no reason to get out of bed in the morning.  Besides, everything I did took so much effort and exhausted me.

Needless to say, I did not want to feel this way. I sometimes forced myself to shower and dress, thinking that's all I needed to do in order to feel better.  It didn't work.  All it did was to drain me.  When I walked outside to get fresh air and sunshine, I felt heavy, weighed down, encumbered.  I could hardly wait to get back to my bed so I could lie down and go to sleep.

Depression is very real.  When we are in its grip, we cannot "will" it away.  Neither can we fight it.
We can put up hard resistance to it, but it won't go away.  We can try to ignore it and go about our daily lives in spite of it.  This doesn't impress the depression one bit.  It doesn't budge.  I tried all these ways of coping with depression and found none of them helpful.

The only thing that helped me in that black fog was loving surrender.  Being gentle and loving with myself.  Acknowledgement of what was going on in my body and mind. Acknowledgement of what I needed.  Acknowledgement of the depression and its right to be.  Letting go of all struggle.  Going deeper into love and acceptance of myself.  Surrender.

It also helped to be with friends who would simply listen with love in their eyes.  The fewer words, the better.

Depression is.  It comes and goes.  It is connected to loss and grief.  It has a wisdom of its own and a life of its own.

Today I'm grateful that I have the energy to go to Colonial Lake for a walk and to do a routine of Qi Gong and a sit of meditation.  The pink roses are in bloom and so lifted my spirit with their cheerful beauty.

This posting is dedicated to everyone who has ever suffered depression and knows what it feels like when that black fog lifts, even for a day.  I don't know what tomorrow will bring but I am grateful for today. 

We are all connected and I send each of you my deepest love.

Pink roses at Colonial Lake in Charleston
March 31, 2020

SHAME, I SERVE YOU NOTICE!

From this day forth, I intend to write from the bones.   This is my doorway to freedom and I'm stepping through it today!

My hope is that this blog will find its readership among others who are committed to integration of body, soul, and spirit.  I'm willing to share my insights and struggles on the way.

I will share with you, my readers, my struggle with shame and low self esteem that has kept the scared, vulnerable part of me barricaded in a dark, secret hole for most of my life with two demons on either side of me, standing watch with angry eyes.  I stepped out of that hole this morning.

It's been a good day, a liberating day!  I released wave after wave of shame that was stored in my body as I stood in the light and allowed love to wash over me.

I allowed Love to hold me in her embrace for a long period of time.  I let go of what I held in that hole and let the Light have it. 

I also faced what has been going on in my life over the past month or so that has shrouded me in depression.   I wrote about it and will share "A Tale of Two Men" with you.

Shame, I serve you notice.  Your grip on me is over!

Greenview Road, Sewanee, TN in winter

A TALE OF TWO MEN

On Valentine's Day 2020 I lost two men I love.

My brother, Joe, only 15 months younger than I, died early that evening.  His daughter, Kelly, notified me about his death although I had not heard from either of them for years.  She said Joe had been in declining health and that his death was a blessed relief.  I felt immeasurably sad for all the years he and I did not communicate after our mother's death.  This was his choice, not mine, fueled by his addiction to drugs.  In response to my question about a funeral, Kelly announced that he would be cremated and his ashes released this spring at his favorite fishing hole at the beach.

The other man did not die, but he is lost to me nonetheless.   

Billy and I had been inseparable for months prior to his leaving Canterbury House. I made breakfast for him before I left for work; he was often waiting for me in the parking lot when I arrived home in the late afternoon. I cooked supper for both of us and listened to him talk about his day.  Because of his dementia, our wise and watchful executive director, Sally, felt he could no longer live alone.  Billy was having more and more difficulty finding his way back to his apartment.  Sally asked his brother, Fred, and nephew, John, to move him out of his apartment by the first of February.  His neurologist confirmed that he needed specialized care and recommended he go into an assisted living facility with a memory care unit.  We all knew this was best for Billy and came together as a team to help him make a hard transition.

Toward the end of January, his brother, Fred, took Billy to a motel room in Mount Pleasant and stayed with him as they waited for a room to open up in assisted living.

Three weeks into their stay at the motel, on Valentine's Day, Billy exploded in anger and physically attacked his brother.  When Nancy, Fred's girlfriend, arrived to take them to lunch, she ended up taking Fred to the ER where he was placed in Intensive Care with bleeding on his brain. The hospital transported Billy by ambulance to a locked ward in a hospital in Hilton Head where he could be evaluated.  Only Fred, his guardian, can to talk to him in the hospital.   

How quickly everything can change!  My heart and body has grieved the loss of both of these men over the past month.

Fairy tales have happy endings.  Real life is often tragic.

Please send Billy warm wishes and prayers that he be placed in an appropriate facility.   Pray that Joe's soul rest in peace.  Pray that I will release each of them in love.

Winter sunset in my backyard, Cowan, TN