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You were conceived in spring fever,
amidst a private garden of blooming flowers.
The first stirring came Palm Sunday –
too tiny to be felt, but a mother knows.

I lay back with my hands caressing where
you grew, imagining your toothless grin,
your pudgy thighs, holding you, rocking you.
They said around Christmas -it seemed the right
time for a miracle. It was meant to be

until

the great flood came and I lie crying on the floor;
the loneliness,
the emptiness,
the loss

overcoming me.

You came and went before
we could know you, and
soon most forgot that
you were here,

that you lived, if only briefly, inside me,
and had your own story that was so crudely
finished before even the introduction written,
before I could find my defenses and fight for you.

They said,

I was barely pregnant
there’ll be another
it was nothing, really

but you were here.

No one grieves a life so brief as the mother
whose love has already committed to forever.

A part of me is lost, with you. Where you are.
I will never see your smile. I will never hold you.
I will never hear your laugh or ruffle your hair.
No one remembers. But I remember.
You mattered and
you were here

 

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Better…

I’m doing better than the last time I posted (two months ago… ha). Which, thank God. I’m so thankful for. I don’t have time for the depression nonsense. My calling it ‘nonsense’ isn’t dismissing it as slight or unimportant. I know that depression is huge and agonizing. I’ve been there, in its throes more times than I care to remember. But somehow… I pulled out. I have my moments, but I’m certainly not in a full-fledged depression like I was afraid I was heading for.

On depression. I heard about Chester Bennington, lead guy of Linkin Park, who took his life a few days ago. It makes me so damn said that this monstrous beast has claimed another life that was so worth living -he was 41, had a wife and several kids, was about to go on tour with his band… man. Just, wow. It’s so scary that someone can be so low and others around them not have a clue. Makes my heart ache to think about Chester (and anyone who has been in that position, whether or not they’ve died. To be so low as to want to die is the worst feeling ever). I pray that he is at peace, and that his family… copes. I don’t know that with suicides full peace ever comes. I think there are always questions that haunt you after the fact, probably forever. I hope for the best for his family. That they are able to be happy again. Surely he would want that.

Accomplishments: I’ve given up nasal spray (of which I was a heavy user for years… lol) and caffeine. Amazing! I’m proud of that. I’ve relied on those two things daily, forever. Next, cigarettes. Smoking has got to go. It will kill me. I know that smoking will be harder to quit than nasal spray and caffeine, but the fact that I was able to quit them period makes me more confident that maybe I can finally kick smoking to the curb.

Also, I’ve started to write poetry again. Just two poems so far, but it’s definitely a start, considering I’ve been so blank for years. I’m thinking of joining a local writers’ workshop for motivation and accountability. It really feels good to be putting thoughts on paper again.

i’ve no reason to be depressed

… except I’m sort of getting there. I think.. maybe?

That’s the funny thing about depression. At least, for me. It’s not just one day I realize, Oh, I’m depressed. No. It’s the weariness. The constant anxiety. The inability to feel joy in… anything. The numbness replacing happiness, contentedness, satisfaction. The big NOTHING. The empty. The what does it matter? The I just don’t care. The loneliness. The lack of hope. The ‘tunnel’ where I can never imagine anything ever getting any better.

But I’ve been depressed. Many times. The ‘tunnel’ is a liar. Things can get better, and they do.

It might sound funny, but I think in a way my previous experiences with depression help keep me afloat. I had a total breakdown in ’11 that culminated in my becoming suicidal, spending a bit of time in a psychiatric facility, and being put on some pretty heavy-hitting pharmaceuticals. While the drugs definitely help keep me stable, the darkness can still slip through the cracks. It can edge its way in. It can take me over little by little by little, without my even realizing it, until I’m in the throes of it and just gone.

Here is how having been depressed before, helps me control the onset (somewhat) when a new depression threatens. Depression: been there, done that. Made it through. I made it through before, I will make it through again. The power of positive thinking really works. I have to force myself to think positive, but it does help. While it doesn’t drown out the depression completely, it quiets its ugly, roving lies if I pile the truth on top of it. Knowing that I’ve been here before, I got through it and I will again is empowering, even in those dark times.

And, I’m a mom. I won’t succumb to the ‘tunnel’ that tells me I am worthless, stupid, a bad mom, and my kids would be better off without me. Depression is a liar. A vicious, vicious liar. None of these things are true. Could I do better? Sure. But I’m hardly unique in that. And for damn sure, I’m a good mom.

Since my breakdown, I’m much more self-aware. I see it approaching. This time, I won’t let it swallow me. I’ve everything to live for and every reason to be happy. I’ve fought this beast before and won… and I will again. No matter how many times it takes.