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November 26, 2006

day 26 - this is love

I am without power, without internet access. The snow? It is falling hard.

I am sitting in the driveway of a coffee shop, risking life and limb - in the dark hours - just to post to NaBloPoMo.

My novel? It will be done by christmas, NaNoWriMo? i kissed you goodbye when our power went out thursday and i had only 24% battery power left on my iBook.

I am happy and embarassed that all of you want my book of poetry. It contains, at least, 10 naked photos of me. I'm going to take all of those out. Sorry.

I am good. Okay. Not so good.

It's so hard. Sitting here. Telling you every little thing about my life. My life? It is wonderful and perfect. A husband who loves me, beautiful children, grandparents. Yet. But.

Today i went for a walk alone in the snow. I love the snow. And i thought, i guess this is how it will be, this is the best it will be. Sadness that soaks me. Like wet clothes in the winter that never really dry. I will always be sad. To say that. It is so hard.

I sit with my husband, and we talk, and we laugh, but the whole time i am just pretending to be happy. I am not happy. I am overcome by sadness. My head hurts, it reels.

I don't want advice today.

I know i need to see a doctor, a naturopath, a therapist.

Today, i am just telling you that i walked down my road alone and i wished that the sadness would go away. I wished that i could be dead.

Posted by Jess at 09:38 PM Permalink

Comments (19)

Kathleen

It is hard. Somedays the sadness is overwhelmed by the minutae of life, sometimes you are.
Thank you for letting us know another feels this way. You really aren't alone.

Posted by Kathleen | November 26, 2006 10:24 PM

mom on a wire

I remember feeling that way. Not that I wanted to kill myself, just that I wanted to be dead, to unexist, to not have to feel or BE anymore. It was like walking through a dark mist. I have barely any memories from that time in my life. But I came out the other side. I wouldn't call myself "better", but life is something I live now, instead of watch. There is hope of coming out the other side. I want you to know that.

Posted by mom on a wire | November 26, 2006 10:43 PM

blackbird

My mom has been clinically depressed for 40 years.
Almost my whole life.
After my dad died we SAW what she was really experiencing.
She has no joy - he filtered it all for us...
sometimes I'm angry with her for this.
sometimes I read something like this and try to think of how she has been feeling.
so - you may not have felt like you've helped your self, but you've helped me.

Posted by blackbird | November 27, 2006 04:19 AM

Chookooloonks

I'm lighting a candle for you right now. May you find your way through this dark place.

Many blessings,

Posted by Chookooloonks | November 27, 2006 04:38 AM

Elizabeth

Oh how I understand this, unfortunately. When Kaitlyn was a newborn, I was so depressed that I had to force myself to smile at her. Like Mom on a Wire, I want you to know that it is possible to come out of the cloud. I hope it helps to know that you are not alone in feeling this way, that you have friends in this world who care.

Posted by Elizabeth | November 27, 2006 06:25 AM

summer

this is also my reality only mine comes in waves months long, sometimes days or weeks long. The worst part is how incredibly tired you (I) feel from doing nothing.

Posted by summer | November 27, 2006 06:37 AM

marian

Sometimes you have to hit bottom before you can turn around. I hope this is bottom for you. There's another way to live, Jess. Keep breathing. It will find you.

Posted by marian | November 27, 2006 08:42 AM

katie

My heart hurt for you when I read this. No advice here, just me sending you my best. Take care.

Posted by katie | November 27, 2006 08:59 AM

Ellen

You just broke my heart, Jess. You're a tough gal and I know with Shane's help, you'll find a happier walk in the snow.

Posted by Ellen | November 27, 2006 09:18 AM

ade

I have wished those very same wishes before. Just FYI. Hang on. We are all here.

And those photographs? Beautiful.

Posted by ade | November 27, 2006 10:10 AM

Sabrina

Big Hugs.

Posted by Sabrina | November 27, 2006 11:05 AM

lori

All I can offer are {{{hugs}}}.

Posted by lori | November 27, 2006 12:16 PM

wordgirl

No advice. No judgement. Just love. And a hug.

Posted by wordgirl | November 27, 2006 01:25 PM

sarcastic journalist

I've been there. Please hang on. Get the help, the help will make you get better.

Posted by sarcastic journalist | November 27, 2006 02:31 PM

You truly are not alone, even though I know it feels that way. Hold onto whatever you can. Thinking of you tonight.

Posted by TB | November 27, 2006 04:23 PM

Chair

All I can do is wish you well, in any and all capacities. I hope you can find your own warm glow amidst the snowfall that will fill you with breath and life.

Posted by Chair | November 27, 2006 10:37 PM

Kim

No advice, just love.

Posted by Kim | November 27, 2006 11:57 PM

Suebob

No matter how you feel, you are still a perfect, beloved child of the universe. I wish you well.

Posted by Suebob | November 28, 2006 09:54 AM

Deb

good for you for setting up the boundary of no advice.
wishing you so much breath and light as you walk through the dark.

Posted by Deb | November 28, 2006 11:38 PM