Originally,
when thinking about today’s post, I thought it would be a happy and uplifting
one, but the way I’m feeling as I type this is very depressed. I knew I had
written something about depression years ago, so I went looking for it. With
some minor changes, I’m publishing it today in the hope this reminder will make
me CHOOSE to not be depressed.
More than a century ago when my great grandmother was alive and
raising kids, I’m sure she suffered from depression based on stories handed
down. Who wouldn’t have suffered back then in the coves of Tennessee? It was
hard-scrabble farming, no electricity, running water, grocery stores, or any of
the “conveniences” we now take for granted. At the same time, my
great-grandmother most likely wasn’t aware of the “haves” since pretty much
everyone she knew were have-nots as well. No major publications or television
to show her the “perfect” world she didn’t have.
My grandmother didn’t appear to suffer from depression even
though she didn’t have it any better than her mother. Married to a man 40+
years older than her, she raised his 11 kids from two previous deceased wives
plus the five he gave her and took care of him when he became bedridden. This,
all while working a hard-scrabble farm with no amenities. I was even born in
her cabin in front of the fireplace which was the warmest place available, and
my uncle served as my incubator until my mother was ready to have me with her.
Grandma, too, had a hard life and was part of my life from the
very beginning. I don’t remember her ever dwelling on the hardships she endured
or thinking or believing she had a hard life. In fact, she was upbeat, amusing
and looked for and found silver linings in whatever clouds passed her way. She
even had fond memories and often told stories about her good old days. I need to be more like my Grandma.
My mother was the antithesis of my grandma once we moved to the
city. Before that, as a stay-at-home mom, she baked and sang and kept the house
immaculate. I remember these as very happy times. Once we left Idaho for the city,
things changed. Dad was injured, then couldn’t find a job and so she had to go
to work to keep the family going. That, and easy access to print, radio and
television advertising (or so I think) did affect her view toward life, and it
wasn’t ever positive again as long as she lived.
I had a wonderful childhood and life was very good until I grew
up and became an adult. Actually, life was good until my daddy died and I was
32 then. Marital problems also added to the depression. I was in my 40s when my
doctor told me I suffered from depression and prescribed antidepressants. I
would take them for a time, then stop, become depressed and the cycle would
repeat. Finally, my doctor told me I was to be commended for not becoming an
alcoholic or drug user, but I simply had to accept the fact my chemical
composition was such that without my medication I would be depressed. So,
basically, knock it off and take your pill every day. I did so until a few
years ago when I gave them up for good. For the most part, I haven’t been
inordinately depressed for any long periods of time, so the decision was a good
one.
Still, when life seems to be more than I can handle, depression
rises from the depths of my being. So, I find myself wanting to withdraw from
friends and family, stop doing much of anything and have a private pity party
for however long it takes to stifle the depression. Of course, I know getting
out and about, accomplishing a chore; basically doing anything that brings positivity
to my life will help alleviate the depression.
I also know there are other things that are contributing to the
way I’m feeling as I type this. Coronavirus, shelter in place, fear of going
out and about all contribute to the way I’m feeling. I’m 74 and have three auto-immune
diseases, so that puts me in the risk category. Most of the time I try not to
think about it and I don’t watch the news aside from 20 minutes of Good Morning
America. Maybe I should give up that 20 minutes. Maybe I just needed to succumb
to depression for a day or so.
So, why do I CHOOSE to be depressed. I mean, really, logically,
what do I have to be depressed about? I’m healthy, am pretty much
financially secure, have family and friends who care about me, have things to
do that I enjoy and basically don’t have much to complain about at all. Yes,
there are things about my life I would like to change or have changed, but they
are also things over which I have no control. I should just let them go, and
for the most part do so, but sometimes, they rise up and smack me in the face.
There’s also the fact Easter is tomorrow and as I posted in my
previous blog, like many others, I’m going to spend it alone. I know that has added to my
depressed feeling. Yes, I’ll have ham and good buns. I’ll have my gin. I’ll
stuff my face and enjoy doing it, but the enjoyment would be increased by
having someone/anyone share it with me.
In any case, it didn’t help that I CHOSE to take a beautiful
sunny day off and achieve absolutely nothing. When I got up the next morning,
even though I’d slept well, I felt crummy and really just wanted to go back to
bed. I didn’t. I got myself together and went for my hour walk. It wasn’t fun.
For some reason, the calves of my legs always hurt a lot, and lately they’ve
gotten worse. It doesn’t matter if I stretch, eat a banana, take my vitamins
first, my calves hurt for part or much of the walk. It makes me want to stop
walking…but I won’t.
Now that I’ve typed this, I’m going to CHOOSE to go outside and
continue working in my garden. It always makes me feel good to see what I’ve
accomplished at the end of the day. It’s supposed to be beautiful and warm for the next week or more, and I need to keep the fact that my life is a 1,000 (or more) times
better than that of my great-grandmother at the forefront of my thoughts. I
know I can CHOOSE not to be depressed by getting busy, calling friends, working
out, accomplishing a major project, doing things that make me feel good. Most
of the time, this is the choice I make. So, why are other days so difficult,
and why on those days, do I CHOOSE to be depressed? I don’t really have an
answer to this question, I just know now and then, no matter what, life and
depression sucks.
