Dark clouds in my soul

 

 Storm over the farm

The dark cloud has hung over me from the day I recognized a deep black grit had filled me when it descended. I tried to reason it out, I was only eight years old.   

The black cloud hung over me forever it seemed, but it came and went as it pleased.

The blackness came to visit me often.  My heart was so heavy, my head was almost numb with the blackness. That was when I went to the window in my upstairs bedroom, sat on the ledge, swung my legs out, and then contemplated this action.

Then I looked down the road and saw Dad’s old truck rumbling up the gravel road from town. I swung my legs back in, collapsed on the bed, and wept.

Once I understood what the darkness did, and while I could not fight it, I could withstand it.  This was my life, deal with it.

I grew up with the dark cloud off in the distance, always there always threatening.  I went from 8 years old to 30 in a flash.

With three children watching TV with their father, I went into the half bathroom where there were no windows, closed the door and sat in the dark. There were rumblings of thoughts about the windowsill, and I wondered if it was that time again.  I stared into the corner of the room, where no light showed.  As I stared, a figure emerged slowly, growing with its own throbbing light surrounding

The figure grew and grew until it was the size of a doll. Frozen in fear and recognition, I knew this was Satan.  As sure as I write this, I was sure it was the evil the Bible spoke about. 

I heard my children playing, and that was when God gave the Lord’s Prayer to my brain and my mouth.

The moment, the very moment the words came from my mouth, Satan disappeared, in a flash.  The room was grey now, and I turn on the light.  Opening the door, there was a peace that surround me.

Has the darkness disappeared? No, but I see it in the distance and sought God immediately. God fills me daily while Satan hovers outside the door, watching for a break in my heart and mind.

I have never ever told anyone about this.  Depression is something that is not just a sadness. It is a destructive attack on one who is susceptible. But lately, there has beena door knocker waiting. Lately, that has been my struggle. 

Why? Age, health, pain, surgeries are big issues in my life.  I cannot quilt anymore, and playing the piano is almost impossible. At least, my words still come easily.

Pray for me and all who wrestle with this torture that appears without being called.

I went to see Dr. Shester, a psychiatrist,worked with me to see a light more than dark. I have been taking meds for the past 25 years and that has given me peace. Also a talented psychologist helped me work through the weight that depression has. 

Down to the River

     

Wikipedia.org

Illinois River meeting up with the Mississippi River

Josh Groban is a talented man with an outstanding voice. This is what he has give me today.

Josh Groban has been a voice that we all welcome. This voice comes from a depth he experiences about depression and anxiety.  He wrote this song.

He is a prodigy who was surrounded by an extremely talented family which focused on music. This second performance above is from him talking about his struggles, how they led him down the road that developed his talent.

 "Groban began singing in 7th grade and later enrolled in the Interlochen Arts Program to concentrate on his voice. As fate would have it, his vocal coach was friends with David Foster, a well-known producer, writer and arranger, and in 1998, Groban and Foster began working together."

When a child discovers he has a major talent, is encouraged to pursue it by musical parents and given training by accomplished musician David Frost, the child grows to be a man who gives back to the world.

May God bless and protect people with talents who will struggle in this world.  He has a Plan for them.

May is Mental health month; "The Silly Bus"

Source

Lift your chin. Square your shoulders.  Pull it together.  Nothing is wrong with you.  Work harder. Get over it. Go to church. Or, at least, keep it to yourself.

A community like mine was where there were no secrets and lots of gossip.  Whatever one said or did was under scrutiny, where it merited truth or concern or not.  It was the Midwest, after all, where values and commitment mattered more than any personal failure or need. 

What about those who could not lift a chin? Square shoulders? Pull it together?

I will tell you, since I know. 

Those people were given a fair amount of criticism and reprimands. Everyone has problems, everyone has suffered losses, but they deal with it in the Midwest way. The stigma of a mental illness reflects on the family, after all.  

I remember the very day when I was visiting home, we all were sharing a breakfast and a scheduled bus went up the road to the county seat.  Dad smirked, "There goes the silly bus."

Silly bus? These were people who had developmental problems which required extra services.  These were people who suffered mental problems and couldn't deal with life in general.

When questioned, Dad said, "In my day, they didn't need all that. They were taken care of at home. Those others, well, they should just get out there and work. Just work it out. Don't need help."

Didn't he know? Didn't he see me?  Didn't he see himself?

I have struggled through chronic depression all my life.  My "sadness" was deep. It has taken years of therapy, assisted by anti-depressants, to reach a steadiness. God gave me what I needed and put me in a place where I could reach it.

Dad? His father died when Dad was 9 years old and suicide was always on his horizon.  World War 11 pushed that into PTSD and opened a floodgate of his own depression. When he went into a spiral, we all felt its effects, God help us.

One day, many years after sitting at breakfast, my sister was home. Dad mentioned the silly bus, and my sister replied, "Dad, my son (with autism) would be on that bus." He never said that again.

But then again, autism and many others in the realm of developmental issues was not dealt with in Dad's era. My parents asked me (a teacher) if this couldn't just be whipped/beat/spanked out of him. I spent the next hours explaining exactly what children and adults experience with autism and what is known or theorized about it.

May is Mental Health Awareness Month.  May 11-17 has been selected as Mental Health Awareness week. Never before has mental health been recognized as so important, impacting society in ways never imagined. 

October is Depression Awareness Month. The first full week of October is Depression Awareness week. Never before has Depression been recognized and diagnosed as a silent struggle so many experience and suffer. 

April 2nd is World Autism Awareness Day. 


Lift your chin. Square your shoulders.  Pull it all together.  Nothing is wrong with you.  Work harder. Get over it. Go to church. Or, at least, keep it to yourself.

This post is dedicated to those who relate or can relate to what is written here.

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Wednesday Words: Mrs. Esther

Source

Mrs. Esther assessed each student as they entered her classroom.  Being a rare insightful teacher, she knew the struggles every student possessed as a strong believer in understanding what each experienced at school and at home.

When she announced that it was time for Friday’s Spelling test, some retrieved papers from desks eagerly and some with resignation.

“Disperse…firefly...graduated…” were the words easy to remember and sound out.  Then “…either…beautiful…and finally testosterone…” Now that’s an odd one” she thought.

Papers were collected and the final bell rang.  Those students, ones that worried Mrs. Esther the most, were last to leave, with sluggish reluctant steps. Looking at their papers, she ascertained what handwriting said:

Anger, fear, depression, despair, anxiety...and much more

Those names always frightened her, for causes were from the home and almost beyond her reach.  Almost.


 Delores is a wonderful and creative writer.  She observes life with clarity.  With that in mind, Delores tosses six words for Wednesday Words writing, to challenge anyone who wants to stretch writing, create, and confound.  Please check the train tracks in the upper right sidebar.  And, please join the crew who wrestle with this words, sentence prompts, and sometimes photos to entertain and sometimes confound.

Hunting for Humor

I am hunting for humor.  I have been searching for it for some time.  This time of year is so hard for many people, and I am no exception.

It confuses me somewhat, as this is a joyful time of year. 

Christmas—joyful.  Songs—irritatingly upbeat.  Decorations—bad taste at any other time of the year, but not now.  Demands on time—give, give, give but finding joy in the giving.

Church—cantatas that celebrate Christ’s birth and our salvation; that’s good. 

Holiday foods—another good thing. 

Cute and happy children—a real plus.

So what is my problem?

Basically, I have a dark side that I fight against. 

It is depression, something that has plagued me for much of my adult life.  It didn’t have a name until people I loved started dying. Finally the dark cloud that would come over me had a title and a treatment.

This time of year brings the memories of those who have died, who are celebrating Christmas in Heaven, to the front of my brain.  While I keep plodding along with Christmas joy, my humor is hiding somewhere.

Maybe it is in the sock drawer.