…yes my dearest cyber friend…
…the abyss of DEPRESSION…
I know I need to write about it but the words escape me. No! There’s no shortage of words, what exists is the inability to combine them in a full depiction of my current state.
Most of what I feel is an endless line up of emotional paradox. Instances of mind states that seem to fluctuate from mediocre happiness to assertive self-loathing.
How did I get here?
Am I not supposed to feel lucky to have everything I have, to be everything I am, to just be? As some of my most intimate and well-intended friends so motivationally and predictably tell me so?
ugh…I feel bad for feeling bad. I feel ungrateful for feeling ungrateful. It’s a self-sustained spiral.
I have given myself many reasons for having arrived here, floating in these murky waters and enveloped by this thick fog that has effectively blinded me to everything that surrounds me. Feeling as though I’m trying as hard as I can to move, only to find myself in another spot that seemed slightly clearer…and it is…but only for a fleeting moment. The currents keep pulling me towards all that murk and thickness. The gentle kelp wraps around my legs and I’m stuck again.
But…but…I’ve always been a strong swimmer.
I’ve always carried my own “de-murkenator”.
My legs have always been strong in detangling myself from all the easily breakable kelp.
My tools for de-humidifying all the fog and cut through any thickness have always reached “mission accomplished” status.
No matter how long it took. They’ve always worked.
Are there any manuals or 1-800 numbers that can walk me through the rebooting process?
Is there a return policy on these things? I want my fucking money back!
I am so FUCKING frustrated. Unmotivated. Insecure. Irrational. Unsure.
I tell myself with the assertion of timeless fables that there’s a reason for all of this.
I am HUMAN.
It’s ok to find myself in this…
I’ve had a major life transition with its accompanying pressures.
I’m away from the people that I love the most. Where can one possibly go to shoot the shit? Where can one possibly go to cry? To laugh? To commiserate? To just be together?
How is it possible to change the laws of mathematics so that $1000 – $3000 equals $5,000?
How am I not to feel utterly angry, appalled and helpless at the unjust fact that my mother has been barred from entering the US for another 6 years? As if she was a criminal.
How can I not worry about the fact that my mom was living by the foot of a major slum in a big Rio de Janeiro city? Sharing her room with other strangers…sharing a tiny space in a closet for her clothes while keeping the rest in bags and boxes?
How can I not worry about the fact that my mom has no income and relies on her children for financial support. One of them, being me, whose income has been reduced to the point that it’s not enough to sustain her own needs, but still must send money to her mom. Well…because if that doesn’t happen…my mom…goes…without…the most basic of needs: food and shelter. Even if it’s not the kind of food my mom deserves. Even if it’s the kind of shelter that lies at the very first steps leading up to the slum.
How can I not feel somewhat responsible for having filed her visa paperwork while she was in Brazil? Meanwhile, if I had filed the same paperwork if she was here…the BAR would not have applied and she would have received her green card in a matter of months.
How can I not be pissed that my mom went to Brazil to be with her 96-year-old mother, but was only able to see her very few times over a period of 3+ years? Her own sister was keeping my mom away from my grandmother for reasons I will never understand…but unfortunately have to do with her greed for whatever money my grandmother had. My mom was on a schedule for phone calls!!! Once a week if that!!!
How can I not be FUCKING ANGRY that my grandmother passed away and my mother was only informed of her own mother’s passing on the day of her burial services? What the fuck kind of human being does that? My mom’s sister did!
I couldn’t be there with my mom to comfort her, to hold her hand, to cry with her…to be her daughter and friend. All because those greedy, soulless motherfuckers (aunt and her husband) were HORRIBLE human beings.
There are many more terrible things these two have done to my mom and continue to. Why? It is so unfair!
Yes…I can worry. Yes…I can feel sadness for this reality.
But DEPRESSION??? What the fuck is wrong with me?
I tell myself to suck it up, but continue to choke helplessly.
I’ve resiliently sucked it up so many times before.
My major life transition? Well…I am in a fully paid PhD program whose faculty has given me due recognition for my ability and intelligence. A program, that had my head spinning for a few months, but whose enriching challenges I’ve overcome and may I say…mastered.
I’m away from everybody I love because that very PhD program had me move about 1,700 miles across the country.
I own my condo, which is rented out to wonderful tenants, in an area that will pay dividends in the future.
Though I cannot change the law of mathematics, thankfully, I have earned the respect of my colleagues and seniors to be able to boost that first number from $1000 to enough at least to break even.
My mom is a cancer survivor! She received treatment in the same country that has now barred her for another 6 years. There’s much brightness in that. I am Thankful.
Although I cannot send all the money I’d like to…I still can send enough to cover the basics.
My grandmother lived to be 96 years old! What a blessing! She had a wonderful life and was always so healthy. There is much brightness in that too! She got to meet her first grand-grand children when she came to visit us in the US the last time.
Those greedy motherfuckers are just that…greedy…ugly…motherfuckers. Pointless and worthless human beings.
I get to travel often back “home” to see my family and friends who I love and miss dearly.
Many of them have visited me. I can call them any time.
So you see…although things are not perfect…they’re pretty FUCKING GOOD.
I just have to keep reminding myself of all of this messy wonderfulness that life is.
Break away from that gentle kelp. Keep swimming with a purpose…with my de-fogginizer and de-murkenator. With my FUCKING strong legs and arms and body and being.
Realize that the murk is nothing but stirred up sand from the bottom that quickly settles if I’m just patient enough. That the fog, with its moisture…is pretty damn good for my skin…and may I say…adds a romantic and curiously mysterious feel to life.
I promise to keep reminding myself of that..while also reaching out for help from folks that have been trained to help folks who find themselves struggling just like me.