Talking myself out of "the sads"

I have absolutely no reason to be sad or, more accurately, depressed.  I live a blessed life.  I have a loving husband, four beautiful, healthy and successful children, a lovely son-in-law and equally lovely "boyfriend-in-law."   I have a fabulous family and wonderful friends.  I live in a beautiful part of the world and enjoy tremendous freedoms, opportunities and privileges.   I have job security and I'm about to embark on an adventure of a lifetime.  The problem is, depression is not about 'whys'--it just is.  Unfortunately, depression runs in my family.

I have distinct memories of my poor mom sinking down to the depths.  I can remember seeing her sitting on the couch as we left for school.  She'd have her hair in pin curls, wearing an old shirt and slacks.  She'd sit there with her chin in her hand; her facial expression was usually a painful blank.  The truth is, she was a really beautiful woman.  My grandmother once told me--"You girls are all fine looking, but not a one of you can hold a candle to your mother."  But depression wiped that away in a cruel fashion.  The worst part was coming home and seeing my poor, dear mother in the same exact position she had been when we had left six to seven hours earlier.  I know she suffered. 

As we were growing up in the '60s and '70s, we truly had no clue how to treat depression.  I can remember trying to "jolly" her out of her "mood".  Naturally, that never worked.  She just had to go through it.  We didn't know from anti-depressants back then.  The one thing which did seem to help was when she went for a kind of talk therapy with one of our pastors.  It was between her and our minister,  but I remember her seeming better after at least one of their sessions.  One time she mentioned that she had talked about feeling guilty about losing touch with her only brother.  He passed away while I was in high school and she didn't go back for the funeral; I know that weighed on her.

Mother came to be with me after my oldest child was born.  I was so grateful she was there, and she seemed thrilled to have and spend time with her first grandchild.  I remember she made freshly squeezed orange juice for me every morning, until one day when she didn't.  The cloud of depression had descended.

I'm not sure how many more times she had to go through that misery before she passed away four years later.  I hope for her sake that she was reprieved.

I've been going through something over the last few weeks which felt like an oppressive weight pressing down on my soul.  There are situational issues which have weighed on me, but I know this depression is not just because of those things.  Regardless, that knowledge doesn't help; depression just is.

The world is a scary place, and probably always has been, but I find the current world situation to be terribly, terribly worrying.  In preparing for the internationalized version of my "Deciding What's News" class, I've been reading a number of books that outline the role our government has played in exacerbating the "terror threat" from the Middle East.  It makes me despair to consider how our government  manipulated the political environment over the past century, and how that manipulation contributed to the current climate of terror.  I also deplore the abdication of democratic values in the post 9/11 era.  It's even worse to consider how the U.S. has mirrored the hubris of the U.K. in the latter 19th/early 20th century.

I've written in this blog about the flood here in Duluth, the fires out west and in Oklahoma, the drought and the heat.  Global warming is a terrible fact of life and I feel responsible for whatever role I have played in contributing to it throughout my life. 

Our political environment is poisonous, and while I bemoan that, I know I contribute to the ugliness in my own disdain for positions I don't endorse.  Still, I find the prospect of certain policies being implemented truly, truly terrifying.

On a local level, I am also seriously concerned.

Over the past year I've chosen to walk as much as possible in lieu of driving.  It's been a good thing for my soul, as I'll discuss later, but I've seen some stuff around town that sickens me.  Mostly, I've been disgusted by the trash around town.  Last summer, a raccoon corpse was run over again and again by countless cars.  After weeks, it became (thankfully) unrecognizable.  Similarly, there was a broken toilet which languished by the trash pick up zone on our busy street.  Finally, it was so broken up that the porcelain dust just mixed in with the dirt.  I've seen dirty diaper "packages", used condoms, and medical gloves.  The trash in this otherwise beautiful town is awful.

Trash is easily remedied, and I intend to spend one day before I leave for England just picking up trash while I'm on one of my long walks.  Less easily fixed is a situation I encountered while walking.  In the last week, I've had to witness the destruction of a wooded area behind the middle school my kids attended.  I knew a developer had acquired the property with the intention of turning the school into apartments, shops and even classroom space.  My sense was that they had plenty of room to accomplish that goal; I did not know that part of the deal involved a scorched earth policy.  They have destroyed a wooded area the size of two city blocks.  It is so upsetting to see the area cleared of trees.  Among the great beauties of this town are the many wooded areas sprinkled through the city.  The destruction of even one is something I cannot sanction.

For some reason, passing by this area over the past week has felt like a physical blow.  Every time I walked past this space I felt myself sinking and sinking.  While I could breathe, it felt like my breathing pattern had altered.  I felt on the verge of tears all day long.  Then, I found my brain was filled with thoughts of my inherent un-love-ability and my many, many inadequacies.  Words like "fraud", "failure" and "futility" echoed in my head.  Finally, this afternoon, I started thinking about death--and that scared me.   Mind you, I wasn't thinking about suicide, I was simply thinking about my uselessness.

I had always heard about the value of exercise to clear the mind.  When my sister was in a funk during her first semester of college, my dad's advice was "Shoot a few hoops."  We roared at the silliness of that suggestion, but you know what?  It's true.  After those terrible thoughts listed above, I set about taking a LONG walk.  I admonished myself to knock off the foolish thoughts.  I focused on reinforcing my "attitude of gratitude".  I walked and walked and then I realized the weight had lifted.  I felt better.

That said, I know full well that long walks are not a panacea.  It worked for me...this time.  I've had depression before, and I know I'll probably go through it again.  In the past, talk therapy has been helpful.  I pride myself in not taking any medications, but I know it's a possible option for the future.

As I was emerging from this bout I kept thinking about that anti-depressant ad which says, "depression hurts".  Yup, it does.