Featured Post

All that really matters.

There are only two things that really matter to me right now.  1. Making sure that my partner and children know that I love them, and  2. Te...

Friday

can't take it

Have you ever felt like you just couldn't take it one more day? I was having one of those days today... just hanging in there till I could pull the covers over my head. Then- the most extraordinary thing happened. Someone called; she needed my help. After a quick favor for a neighbor I found the energy to call someone who needed some encouragement. She restored me more than I could console her. Later, a letter came imparting truth and peace. Soon several more things followed along and I realized that I just might make it through today. The day ended with the kind of laughter that makes one gasp for air. A good one, indeed. That probably sounds nice and sugary sweet. A nice blog entry from a middle class suburbanite with no more serious concerns than what color to choose for this weeks manicure. Really it was vicious, bloody battle. As someone who has struggled with serious depression for decades, I know a thing or two about mortal warfare. There are days for many that begin just like mine did... and end in a morgue. That gravity settled firmly when a message came about someone who didn't make it through the day. She shot herself. One more day was just too much. That kind of pain makes sense to me. I frequently get messages from those who just can't take another step. My answering machine and voice mail often resemble a suicide hotline. Let's just say, I 'get' drama. The challenge that begins with "NOT getting out of this bed" and ends with "not one more breath" is a familiar one. These are the wars I've chosen to wage with those too weak and tired to fight on their own. Thankfully, I didn't have to fight that battle for myself today. The war cry went up first thing this morning; a life with no purpose, just another day full of meaninglessness. The battle of chemicals insisting that my brain just shut down and give up was waged. A contention for subordination. The smallest arrow shot in my defense came as a favor asked; direction and design in the form of a simple request. Purpose. My reprieve was a bit of responsibility. Sometimes the best gift given to one in need of help is the need for help.

1 comment: