November 19, 2017, 09:35:44 PM

Author Topic: Depression, Struggles and Light at the End of Every Tunnel  (Read 111158 times)

Offline ScarletBea

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Re: Depression, Struggles and Light at the End of Every Tunnel
« Reply #1830 on: August 05, 2017, 08:55:19 PM »
This is Merchant's Weekend in Iceland, and it's a major party/camping/festival thing. I tend to be vulnerable to these kinds of occasions, as they remind of my limitations, and the things I'm missing out on. I try going downtown a bit each year, but as usual I can only stand the noise for so long, and I don't have anyone to go with, so there isn't a whole lot for me to do.
Who says that you can only have fun by spending lots of time there? I think you're doing great just by going there, even if just for a bit :)
Sometimes we rely far too much on other people to define what's considered "ok" and "fun" (I speak for myself too...)

*hugs*
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Online Eli_Freysson

Re: Depression, Struggles and Light at the End of Every Tunnel
« Reply #1831 on: August 05, 2017, 09:44:03 PM »
Sometimes we rely far too much on other people to define what's considered "ok" and "fun" (I speak for myself too...)

Yeah, true. It's something I say to other people.
I'll notify your next of kin... that you sucked!

Offline ScarletBea

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Re: Depression, Struggles and Light at the End of Every Tunnel
« Reply #1832 on: August 13, 2017, 10:48:46 AM »
It seems my limit at the moment is 3km non-stop running (at an average of 7min/km). I don't mind, I still think it's great :)

It offsets the brand new eczema ::) (stupid chemo!)

And I don't feel much like writing to people (sorry to 2 specific ones to whom I owe a mail/PM...)
« Last Edit: August 13, 2017, 10:51:07 AM by ScarletBea »
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Offline ultamentkiller

Re: Depression, Struggles and Light at the End of Every Tunnel
« Reply #1833 on: August 13, 2017, 04:51:10 PM »
Hang in there Bea. You're running a lot faster than I ever could, which is awesome. keep up the race to your goals.

I've recently realized that I have anxiety. It runs in my family so it shouldn't be surprising, but I thought I had done well in fighting it off. Until Wednesday night. I was experiencing some stomach problems and I couldn't figure out what was wrong. I kept wondering if my appendix was going to burst or something like that. On top of that, I was scheduled for a 10-hour bus ride from Ohio to Georgia, which meant leaving my girlfriend for the time being. That night I completely broke down. It took me forever to stop crying. I felt like I was trapped. My brain kept trying to numb my feelings because when it let them flow, I couldn't stop. I was considering transferring schools to Cincinnati because I knew I couldn't feel this level of sadness again. It was too much.

then Thursday, I went to the bus station, had some crazy stuff happen with my ticket which resulted in me paying $115 for a new one, and then felt my stomach problems get worse. I started freaking out again about the bus ride, leaving Ohio, starting college, etc. I started crying again, and I went to the hospital. I thought maybe I was feeling these things because of what was happening with my stomach. Maybe the hospital could fix it. And it turned out to be nothing life-threatening. They gave me some medication and said I should see a regular doctor about it to get a more accurate understanding of the problem. So I went back to my girlfriend's house with plans to go home Friday. That night I felt fine. Even though I was going to have to leave and felt miserable, I didn't break down. My emotions weren't blocked off. I was breathing normally.

The next day everything went as planned. I didn't freak out, I got on the bus, I made it home... All that good stuff. But I'm pretty sure I have anxiety now. I'm pretty sure I've always had it, but college is bringing it out even more. I've had break downs in the past, but thought they were more due to emotional trauma than anxiety. I had a sort of episode in July, but thought that was a result of the medication I'm taking to maintain stability in my hearing. but now I'm not so sure. Either way I'm not taking medication to "cure" it, but I'll at least start talking to a psychologist and see how I can permanently fix this, or at least make it better.

Offline ScarletBea

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Re: Depression, Struggles and Light at the End of Every Tunnel
« Reply #1834 on: August 14, 2017, 12:22:00 PM »
Oh, just realised that I forgot to say I've started working full time again :D
(and I'm not too exhausted)
Step by step, right?


Ultament, having identified the problem is the most important step. I hope you manage to accept and get it under control *hugs*
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Offline ScarletBea

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Re: Depression, Struggles and Light at the End of Every Tunnel
« Reply #1835 on: August 29, 2017, 04:31:25 AM »
I really don't like myself at the moment... >:( :-\ :'(
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Offline The Gem Cutter

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Re: Depression, Struggles and Light at the End of Every Tunnel
« Reply #1836 on: August 29, 2017, 04:57:06 AM »
I really don't like myself at the moment... >:( :-\ :'(
I am sorry to hear that. But you can take some solace in knowing that self-satisfaction is a greatly overrated sensation. For my part, I have found that the best people are often dissatisfied with themselves from time to time. It's a prerequisite for perfecting ourselves and moving from what we are to what we can be.

I hope the moment passes quickly.
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Offline ScarletBea

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Re: Depression, Struggles and Light at the End of Every Tunnel
« Reply #1837 on: August 29, 2017, 08:03:23 AM »
Thanks, but it's more than just satisfaction :-\
If I was a character in a book, I'd be the one I want to shake, slap and scream at, to get her act together and get back to being a normal human being >:(
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Offline The Gem Cutter

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Re: Depression, Struggles and Light at the End of Every Tunnel
« Reply #1838 on: August 29, 2017, 08:15:30 AM »
I had some night work to do so I drank coffee after 5, and here I am at 3 am. So with whatever top-spin comes from being over-tired, when I read your reply, Ms. Bea, the thought came that you would never think such thoughts about someone else. You would be more patient. And I imagine that if you overheard someone speaking that way about someone else or to someone else, I like to believe you would speak up in their defense. So here I am, speaking up in yours. Lay off! Give her a little credit. She's come a long way and has a ways to go yet. She'll get there. ::)
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"Each time, there is the same problem: do I dare? And then if you do dare, the dangers are there, and the help also, and the fulfillment or the fiasco. There's always the possibility of a fiasco. But there's also the possibility of bliss." - Joseph Campbell

Online Eli_Freysson

Re: Depression, Struggles and Light at the End of Every Tunnel
« Reply #1839 on: August 29, 2017, 09:02:05 PM »
Thanks, but it's more than just satisfaction :-\
If I was a character in a book, I'd be the one I want to shake, slap and scream at, to get her act together and get back to being a normal human being >:(

I am a lot more harsh towards fictional characters than I am towards actual people. The former are there to entertain me, after all. The latter are not. And I'm sure I've mentioned before that while being angry at oneself for not feeling bad is a fairly natural reaction, it's not a winning strategy.

Give yourself a break.
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Offline Bradley Darewood

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Re: Depression, Struggles and Light at the End of Every Tunnel
« Reply #1840 on: September 02, 2017, 02:24:37 AM »

On only 3 hrs sleep, In the airport w/ a delayed flight, writing my grandmother's eulogy, will have to fly one more leg, then drive 3 hours, probably won't get to sleep so I can finish the Eulogy then give it tomorrow.

I can post it here when it's done if you want.

Offline ultamentkiller

Re: Depression, Struggles and Light at the End of Every Tunnel
« Reply #1841 on: September 02, 2017, 01:59:54 PM »
Ouch. I lost mine a year and a half ago. Hang in there.

Offline Jmack

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Re: Depression, Struggles and Light at the End of Every Tunnel
« Reply #1842 on: September 02, 2017, 02:35:33 PM »

On only 3 hrs sleep, In the airport w/ a delayed flight, writing my grandmother's eulogy, will have to fly one more leg, then drive 3 hours, probably won't get to sleep so I can finish the Eulogy then give it tomorrow.

I can post it here when it's done if you want.

Want. Sorry to hear it, BD.
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Offline Bradley Darewood

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Re: Depression, Struggles and Light at the End of Every Tunnel
« Reply #1843 on: September 02, 2017, 04:12:48 PM »

Edited-- i ended up changing it a bit.

Spoiler for Hiden:
I talk about my grandma all the time, but suddenly it’s clear there aren’t any words I can say that can really do my grandmother justice.

It’s hard to know Lois and not admire her.  I loved telling strangers about my invincible grandmother who never stopped a moment to rest.  I think it was in sixth grade we had an assignment where we had to tell the rest of the class who our hero was.  Most of the other kids said something like “Wonder Woman” or “Superman,” but my hero was my grandma.

All of that said, I have to say my first memories of her were painful ones.  Any of you who knew her know that she had this supernatural ability to whip an 11-course meal out of thin air in a matter of seconds. She wanted to make sure you were well fed, but that meant she didn’t let you stop eating until she felt like you’d had enough. She’d say “Jake” (she called me by my brother’s name by accident 9 times out of 10), “eat all your food.”  But eating all that food was hard. She’d need me to finish all the leftover green beans pulled out of re-purposed Cool Whip containers or a piece of pie wrapped in aluminum foil she’d washed and re-used several times over. By the end of it all, my tiny stomach felt like it was going to burst, and I’d have to go lie down until the pain subsided.  But by the time I was a bit older, I could almost keep up with her.

She was rail thin, pretty short, but she probably ate more than a 400 lb. man.  I imagine she needed all those calories, because she did not stop, even for a moment.

She probably burnt a lot of them making the meal in the first place. Cooking had to be fast—how else are you gonna pull so many courses out at once?-- and grandma never wasted any time.  That’s probably why she cooked everything with the burners on high.  My dad tells me that when they were growing up in Kansas City, they would know dinner was ready when the fire alarm went off.  To this day, both my dad and my uncle Ron have a taste for blacked, crispy edges and won’t hesitate to eat anything that’s a little bit burnt.

Having lived through the depression, she wasted nothing. And she knew the value of not just every thing, but every moment and every person. She welcomed friends like they were family, my dad’s childhood friends loved coming over for her cooking.  She also didn’t hesitate to invite anyone to help her.  Whether it was, weeding the garden or husking corn. I think a lot of us have put time in under her supervision. Her sister Gertrude was the best help for cooking, since she quote on quote “didn’t need to be told what to do”. But don’t get me wrong: Even if she put you to work, it never felt like she was bossy, because with grandma, you were working together. It meant a lot of work, but also a lot of smiling and laughing.  Work was never just something you did for her, you did it together. She was inviting you to join her in her day, if you could keep up. 

And keeping up with grandma was no small task. I’d often spend my summers with her when I was growing up. She’d have me painting the docks from sun-up to sun-down when the dew fell.  She’d send me into the woods to collect watercress for the salad or roots and herbs for teas. She’d paint twice as fast as me, working all day in 110 degree heat. She wouldn’t go to bed until well after I’d passed out from exhaustion, and when I barely dragged myself out of bed, groggy each morning, she’d have been up for an hour making an enormous breakfast.  If we had ten minutes for a break in the afternoon she might take it upon herself to spray paint the refrigerator.  When it was time for my parents to visit, she’d begrudgingly turn on the A/C. I learned a lot from her those summers, how to get comfortable in the heat. How to work hard and enjoy it. She taught me the trees and plants of the Ozarks, making watercress salad or sassafras tea. Picking blackberries and gooseberries.

She had grown up on a farm—stripping cane for molasses, growing watermelon and tobacco.  One day when she was 9, so I’ve been told, she and her brother Finn decided to try chewing the tobacco. Knowing the both of them, something tells me it was Finn’s idea. A sugar cane vendor stopped by and saw the two laying on the ground, white as sheets and looking very sick. They made their own play houses, made their own fun.  They knew how to be together and work together. Those lessons grandma passed on to those around her throughout her life.

It wasn’t her cooking that made her my hero, or her ability to get people to pick the green beans or husk the corn.

It was her strength of spirit.  Her unwavering perseverance.  She was the most amazing person I’ve ever met, the person I admired above all others. I’m sure she must have had her doubts—we all have those moments—but she was a constant reminder than any doubts could be overcome.  She had a presence—a level-headed, untiring, unrelenting clarity to her. It seems mundane, and It’s hard to explain, but I always felt like nothing could harm her, like she could face any hardship, any obstacle, and it would never phase her. She was the type of person you’d want around in a crisis, because you knew she’d never balk.  She was my invincible grandmother, and all my friends knew about her, if only by reputation. Even in 6th grade, I knew Superman had nothing on her.

She was undeterred at every moment in her life.  Well into her 70s, one summer with little rain, she decided the hill beside our mobile homes had gotten too dry and was a fire hazard.  So we needed to light it on fire.  My parents had balked until she said that she’d just do it by herself.  So next thing I know I was standing with my face wrapped in a handkerchief next to the propane tank of a mobile home, with a bucket of water and soaked rug, beating back flames that were twice as high as I was.  You can’t say hanging out with grandma wasn’t an adventure.

She taught me to drive, running her car on the grass of her front lawn in Versailles. As she aged, she hid the scratches on her car with black electrical tape so her children wouldn’t take the keys away from her. In her 90s she was still insisting on mowing the grass herself.  When my grandpa was bed-ridden with a stroke, we all helped a little here and there, but she took care of him, almost single-handedly for 4 years.

She had left her job as a school teacher in a one room school house in Proctor when she married grandpa in 1942.  They moved to Kansas City where grandpa took various jobs, ultimately settling in at Firestone, my grandma at the Federal Reserve Bank.  When it was time for them to retire, she was in a hurry to sell their house, so she sold it 2 years before retirement age. Which might have been inconvenient but definitely put them ahead of schedule. They came back to Versailles, where grandpa along with all who visited worked under grandma’s supervision, snapping beans, working in the garden, pulling weeds.  She was a talented foreman.

Grandma understood determination and focus, but she also understood fun.  Whether it was being the 5’2” captain of the woman’s volleyball team in high school or quilting with her sister, she did things with a smile. My dad, my uncle, my great aunt—everyone told me stories about how much fun it was to live with her.

When she wasn’t working, she’d be challenging me to learn new words playing scrabble.  Many nights she challenged my brother and I to a game of Uno.  Even when the Alzheimer’s started to take her, she kept my brother up until 1 in the morning playing Rumio, until he couldn’t go on any further.

I learned a lot from grandma. Whether it was finishing my food or the re-used aluminum foil it came in, she taught me not to waste anything.  Not to take anything for granted.  Those hot summers in the Ozarks, she taught me not to be a slave to creature comforts.  She taught me to work with people, not for them, nor over them. She taught me never to give up. To stay focused. To accomplish as much as I can, to stay busy… and to never waste a moment in life.

I respect her more than anyone I’ve ever met in my life. I always wanted to be like her. When I was in six grade, as much as today…. she’s still my hero. I’m still trying to be like her, at least as best as I can. In moments where I feel weak, or scared, or full of doubt—like right now-- it’s her example, her inspiration, that shows me the person I need to be. And when I tell stories about her, I share her strength with others too.

She lived a life full of people who admired and loved her. I always loved telling friends and strangers about my invincible grandmother who never stopped a moment to rest.  Now, I hope she finally can.

My Uncle Ron, going through her effects, found a note she had left for herself when she was mourning her sister Faye.  It’s aid “God wipes away all tears.” Perhaps that’s her note to us as well.

Next Saturday is our annual fish fry. It’s still going on—grandma wouldn’t have wanted any of us to slow down.  I won’t be able to be there, but it’s a chance to cry and laugh and smile just like she taught us to: to be with her in spirit.
« Last Edit: September 03, 2017, 06:31:19 AM by Bradley Darewood »

Offline ScarletBea

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Re: Depression, Struggles and Light at the End of Every Tunnel
« Reply #1844 on: September 02, 2017, 04:32:52 PM »
Bradley, that's absolutely lovely :D

And reading that, and knowing bits of what you've been through, I think she'd tell you to let go and go find a good life elsewhere: away from stalkers and slave work.
Good luck :-*
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