depression

reminder to self: what it’s like to be stuck in a low

It’s like this. I have a stone in my shoe. I know its there. It hurts. I know it will need to come out sometime, but not just yet. I can’t stop now in the rain, in the middle of a great sea of people pushing me along, hurrying me. I can’t sit here and remove my shoe, and maybe my stocking too, and be all exposed. No way. I need to find the right space, to be safe.

There is a stone in my shoe. Sometimes I forget that it’s there and I don’t remember why, but I am looking for a safe place, a chair, or a step even, out of the rain, out of this crowd of people pushing at me where did they all come from? Noise is coming out of their mouths, but it does not make sense.

There is a stone in my shoe. I think I have been here before, but the people around me are obscuring my view and they make so much noise, I can’t hear my own thoughts. Am I walking in circles?

My foot hurts. I want to sit down and rest, but I can’t find the right place. I am so tired. I want to tell someone but everyone is pushing me on and on and I don’t know why.

My foot hurts. Is there a stone in my shoe?

Gratitude day 4

for the little brown dog who has trotted beside me for most of my life through years across the state across the country – valiantly I have pushed her away, stopped being so damn sensitive, drank the concrete, changed my thoughts, words, my mind… but every time I say I’m ok she nips at a heel to trip me up, brushes her damp body against mine causing the hell-rash, or pounces on me in my sleep to wake me terrified, screaming or weeping

for yesterday when I sat on the train with the water from yet another job ‘no’ leaking from my eyes wondering again what was wrong with me that I couldn’t just appreciate what I had and think of the starving children and be goddamn grateful for fs sake

for when I found her damp and smelly right in my lap. She poked her wet nose into my ear and whispered safely and she left me

for when I finally contemplated safety and what and where and who and when and why safety is and how I might as gently and sensitively as I please go about finding myself some more of that safety

for now – I spot my little friend sitting just outside the back door. I sit with her a bit, content, and throw her some scraps. She leaves them for the chooks, and stretches out in the sun, dry and warm basking