Foreshadowings

Any of us who grew up in the fifties know what it is like to live under the shadow of nuclear war. And those of us who were Catholic also lived with the knowledge of impending judgment. At any time we might see that cloud, perhaps a mushroom cloud, or the Son of Man coming upon a cloud….we knew that our life was tenuous. Or, if we have ever had cancer, the smallest symptom could be a sign of relapse. The news that chokes us every day is just as threatening. Sometimes in the morning I turn to the online news and I expect to see “Last night the world ended.”

When I was a young woman at university I wrote this poem:

“And you, old woman, where will you go?
We have no place for poets –
there is no time for choosing words,
the world is dying.
Look, even now
the planes come down low and loud over our heads –
I cringe,
where is our future?”

But could you tell me
can you tell me where to find
a bed to lie on, that is all,
and dream my days away?

Autobiography, New and Improved

I have decided that I would like to be able to live my life backwards. With all my new-found wisdom, plus many years of experience, I might do a much better job. I will begin where I am now, knowing that in a few years time I will have a sudden attack of health. I will have to begin slowly to adapt, learning to use that extra energy, gradually finding out what I can do – I will be able to walk wherever I want, even take a narrow forest path, go climbing over rocks. I will go back to the Senior Centre, even though I know my time there will be limited (when I reach 54 I will no longer be eligible, I will be too young). My Tai Chi friends will be there, and I will enjoy singing in the Senior Choir. At home I will have a garden, now that I have the energy for planting and tending flowers. I can do volunteer work as well – look at the experience I have had being on the other side of the fence! I will be calm, patient and understanding. No depression this time; no hospital stays. I have skills to cope: music, meditation, writing. Ron and I will do some travelling, he can grow younger right along with me, and since I have decided not to be afraid to fly we can go to Holland and see the bulb fields in the Spring. When the time comes to have my children at home I will be a good mother. I won’t panic with every childhood ailment, and I won’t worry about how the children will turn out, because I already know, they are a success! Perhaps I could write a Mommy Blog! I know that I will greatly enjoy my own childhood, such freedom from responsibility, but none of the self-doubt. Long days of exploring in the bush, drawing, reading.  Finally I will find myself back in my crib, with all my needs met, nothing to do but lie back and be contented, or cry if I feel the need – but, now that I think of it, I will reach this point whether I am travelling backward or forward in  time, won’t I?

Depression Has A Voice

For two days now we have seen the sun, and a warm breeze is touching my face. I have just emerged from a time of deep depression. My depression was speaking to me, giving me orders in fact, and false information. (I have considered that depression and schizophrenia are perhaps much more similar than we might think). “You have no friends,” depression tells me .” You are on your own here, no one can even see you, you barely exist. You are not managing on your own, and life is inevitably going to become even more difficult. The solution is to stop in your tracks. You should quit singing in the choir. Yes, I know you love to sing, but you don’t belong there, you can see that everyone thinks that. Don’t go to your day program, you need time at home alone, that will be better for you. Delete your Facebook. Cut yourself off from that cruel world. Turn off your phone – it is easier not to talk to anyone. Perhaps you would be better off not being on this earth  at all.  Is this pain really worth it? Are YOU worth it?”

“You should pull your socks up,” that’s what people say. “Put a smile on your face.” How we hate hearing those words. A forced smile is such a rictus, your mind feels worse around the edges.  Ridiculous.  If I could make myself feel better I would.

But truthfully, there is no other way. We actually do have to pull ourselves out of our own depression. First we have to confront that seductive voice. Deep, deep inside us we know that depression is lying to us. We have to say no, again and again. We have to take a step, a small step, in the direction of health. We move through brain-fog, our feet feel weighed down, every step is painful, but we need to keep going, one foot in front of the other. Somewhere ahead, where we can’t see at this moment, there is improvement, and we struggle to get there, maybe not today, with its heavy grey sky, maybe not tomorrow. One day there will be a tiny crack in the darkness, we will almost feel the ghost of hope brushing up against us. Someone’s kind word will nourish us, fuel for the journey. We are getting closer and closer. I promise you that.