+’DEPRESSION’ = OVERWHELMING SADNESS FROM SEVERE INFANT-CHILD ABUSE

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This is an excerpt from a letter I just wrote to a friend – one who lived at the bottom of the mountain below our Alaskan homestead as I grew up —

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I wanted to apologize for not being able to write right now.  I did send a snail mail off to you — not to worry, I am a tough cookie and will come out on the up side of whatever’s going on for me right now – I am determined

but must find and follow the inner and outer pathway toward that UP direction

Ever since the moment I looked up from spreading new little worms in my newest compost pile a week ago today – and saw that girl so sad and upset — I have not been able to return myself to the happy worm-spreader I was before I saw — and interacted — with her.  [SEE previous posts of this past week]

I know I have done all but more praying for that child – it is what happened to ME at that moment/those moments that I am processing.

For the first time – perhaps in my life – I SAW what I looked like for 18 years.

I KNOW what I felt like!

I didn’t want to know.  Never in all the moments and years I have traveled since I escaped Mother have I WANTED to know what I felt like as a child.  My pretenses have tumbled down, shattered, dissolved.

This depression I have battled with all my life – I cannot pretend to myself anything about it.  It is a sadness so deeply rooted within every cell of my body there is very little left — unless I WORK VERY VERY hard to find and create it.

So I am doing that.  I have no choice, really.  I hate this state.  And it takes constant work, nearly constant prayer, constant monitoring of any thoughts I might have to TURN THEM – like a sailing ship – into a better, more positive direction

Because the deep sadness, as real as it is in my body, IS NOT WHO I AM!

Enough said.  I will do my 45 min walk, I will eat something good, I will thank and praise God for all the goodness in my life, I will tend the garden, work on the baby blanket I am creating for Little One Dancing approaching his birth — write a little note to you – and I better get busy.

Did I NEED for some reason to come face to face so directly with the desperate sadness I have always KNOWN – no matter what else I have created of a life on top of that sadness – as I have used it somehow for food for a better life?

Someday I will know.  Today I do battle.

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