I am entering new territory. Uncharted waters. A change in perspective. For the first time, really, I am looking at this as a chronic condition. Not something that I will get over. Treatable, rather than curable. It is surprisingly liberating and much less-- depressing than I thought it would be to think that I just have this condition that will always require my attention. Some people only require a short (or long) span of time on anti-depressants before their brain chemistry is able to self-regulate. I am not one of those people, but I held on to that idea that I might be. I so badly wanted to pass for "normal." And I can sometimes. Maybe even a lot. [And now a little side-track...] When I practiced Aikido in college we had a tradition of slapping a piece of duct tape on our gi if we had an injury. That way all of our partners would know to be gentle with that spot as we practiced falling again and again. There are days that I wish I could slap a piece of duct tape on my forehead just to make people aware that I am having a bad day. That I need to be treated gently. I have a friend who makes duct-tape roses and the like. Maybe I could have some sort of hair clip with a duct tape rose and it could be a secret symbol. Maybe we could spread the word. Maybe it would become a movement to make Depression more visible, more accepted, more willingly treated... [...back to regularly scheduled program] I had delightful lunch with a F/friend today who has an identifiable and obvious health problem that affects everything that she does. At times she has been in a wheelchair. Now she relies on the use of a walker. She pointed out with great clarity that when she tells people she is having a bad day they can see it. My bad days are invisible, but no less real. Duct tape would really do the trick. I am glad that I am able to connect with people again. I forgot how much I like people. Don't get me wrong: I am still an introvert and I will not be inviting all y'all over to my house for a giant shindig. But I might agree to meet you for a cup of tea. One at a time. Daily Convexions:
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K. BuchananQuaker, teacher, parent, |