The Life Raft of Love

I Began to Inch My Way Out

. . . of Depression

What Do You Love?

Love can be a life raft to hold us afloat while we heal.

What do you love? Who do you love? What makes you happy? What makes you smile?

During depression, love is off our radar—given and received. Happiness is off our radar. Smiling is off our radar. At such times, we need reminders that we love certain people and things. We need reminders of what makes us happy and makes us smile.

In the months following my separation in 2003, I was recovering from Lyme disease and trying to make my way as a single parent of three children, two of them teenagers. Finances were difficult. I faced all the challenges of those navigating separation and divorce. In spite of having compromised health, I didn’t have the option to stay in bed because I had a family to support.

A dear friend put out her hand and held me so I didn’t fall into the pits of depression. As I bemoaned everything that was wrong with my life, one day she suggested that I consider whether I loved anything, whether anything made me happy or smile. She told me to write those down where I could see them every day. So I did.

I had a new box of colored pencils—the high-quality ones—and I used my cherished Waterman fountain pen to write words of love, happiness, rejuvenation on a large sheet of paper. I then colored each one. I kept the poster where I saw it daily and it encouraged me. It reminded me of everything that made me happy, the reasons I enjoyed living, what gave me joy.

As I read the words, visuals came to mind: gentian sage, no blue in nature matches its deep hues. The black flowing ink and the scritch, scritch as the nib of my Waterman fountain pen moves across paper calms me, reminds me to create, to share. Rainbows from the prism hanging in my window came alive with the morning sun and danced across my room. Words about feeling salt water drying on my skin after an ocean swim on a summer day made me feel that warmth, taste that salt on my body. The names my children made me think of how much I love each of them. Hummingbird on the paper presented a visual of blurred wings hovering over a flower and pointed beaks sipping nectar.

Words are tossed and spun and used in our culture with little thought of their meaning or impact. We are often advised to choose our words wisely because in spite of that tossing, they do have meaning, they do have impact. We can use words to our advantage to lift us, to hold us when we’re sad, to bring laughter, joy, and love into our lives. When I used a visual of words, I had a daily reminder of laughter, joy, and love, and it changed how I viewed the world.

When I returned to Florida years later, I packed my poster of words in a box. Just days ago, while cleaning a closet, I found it. I unfolded it and read each word and was reminded once again of what I love, what I cherish. My poster will not go back in a box to languish unseen and unheeded. It’s going on my wall where I will see it, where I will consider just what I love, what makes me smile, what brings me joy.

In my expanding awareness of what I love, I might make another poster. More love is always an inch toward a happier, healthier life.

To keep ourselves healthy, to keep ourselves away from dark days that befall far too many of us, it helps to hold close the people and things you love. If they aren’t nearby, make your own poster and put it where you can see it every day. A simple visual reminder of what we hold dear, what makes us laugh, what brings us joy, will bring that love, laughter, and joy to us. Knowing what we love and being reminded to love that which bring us joy can, indeed, assist us as we inch our way out of depression.

* * * *

I am not a therapist, so if you or someone you love suffers depression, reach out; get help. However, I do believe we can do some simple things to help ourselves. My own continuing counsel about inching away from depression follows:

Ask yourself: What do you love?

Loving anchors us in the real world and gives meaning and depth to our lives. Focusing on who and what we love is not part of a magic potion to drive away the demons of depression. Love, however, can be a life raft to hold us afloat while we heal.

An article I saw on Facebook during my recent depression helped immensely. I was not ready to give up, but I was darker than I have been in years. Please read the article and if you are having dark days of your own, take the suggestions to heart.

The original can be downloaded in printable form at the following URL:

http://eponis.tumblr.com/post/113798088670/everything-is-awful-and-im-not-okay-questions-to

Love and our awareness of it and how it brings light to our dark days is the last post in my series on depression. From time to time, I may continue to share inspirational and helpful steps you and I can take to inch away from depression.

Note: I welcome comments, even private ones, especially because depression is not something we want everyone to know we experience. If you would like to speak further about this subject, please feel free to contact me at mysistersgarden@gmail.com and we can communicate by e-mail or I will share my phone number. Be well. ~ Chris

A Thirst for Life

I Began to Inch My Way Out

. . . of Depression

A Thirst for Life

Part Four of a Continuing Series

 

“If bread is the staff of life,

then water is the hand that holds that staff.”

Americans take water for granted (unless they live in California or farm for a living). I know I do. Turn on the faucet, turn on the hose, voila! Water.

Three hundred feet deep, the artesian well at my Massachusetts home yields cold, clear, tasty, chemical-free water. The water at my Central Florida home also comes from a well. It’s a few hundred feet shy of being three hundred feet deep, it has iron, and at times, it has a slight sulfur odor. The water softener clears the water, but doesn’t help the taste. We tried various sink filters that didn’t help, so we started buying reverse osmosis water in three- and five-gallon jugs that we place on a water crock with a spout. We go to an R-O filling station, so it’s also a bargain at 25 cents a gallon.

It’s a hassle, though. We lug the jugs to the car, lug them out of the car and into what we call the water store, fill them, lug them back to the car, lug them back into the house, and then lug them from the garage to the kitchen. But when those filled jugs are lined up in the garage, I feel like we’ve accomplished something. I also relax knowing we have clear, clean, chemical-free, iron-free, and salt-free water. It lasts a few weeks and it’s worth the effort.

I am not someone who believes drinking a gallon of water a day is necessary. The human body has a grand design and if we needed to constantly drink water, I think we would have a container growing off our hips. However, it is important to drink water, to stay hydrated, especially in the year-round Florida heat, and according to your lifestyle.

I’m lazy, though, and I love carbonated beverages, tea, and coffee. I must remind myself to drink water.

During my recent bout with depression, I didn’t drink much water. Caffeinated beverages provided the jolt I needed to just keep moving and keep my neurons firing at even a pitifully low rate. Water wasn’t a priority.

In this series on depression, I have referred to the “Everything Is Awful and I’m Not Okay: Questions to Ask Before Giving Up” article many times. After I printed the PDF, I put it on my desk where I could see it. One day, I paid attention to the first question:

“Are you hydrated? If not, have a glass of water.”

I couldn’t remember the last time I drank a glass of water, so I ambled into the kitchen. Plastic gallon jugs of Publix spring water littered the kitchen table. Some were empty, some full, some had an inch or two of water. I surveyed the chaos, picked up a jug, and poured myself a glass of water.

I drank, and it was good.

When you’re depressed, everything seems like too much work. The hassle of getting water had morphed into a huge chore. It was much easier to buy gallon jugs at four times the price of a gallon at the water store. But the jugs piled up, the recycling bins overfilled, and I still wasn’t drinking water unless I used it for coffee, tea, or cooking.

In addition, because I wasn’t going to the water store, I wasn’t buying softener salt, so the water that did come out of the faucets was taking on a slight orange tint.

Water. I realized I just wanted to drink water. I also wanted to drink water store water. The three- and five-gallon jugs had been festering in the garage for several weeks, so I couldn’t just go fill them. I had to clean them. I went to the garage, bleach in tow, and carried each bottle onto the driveway. I rinsed, I sprayed with diluted bleach, I let them sit in the sun, and rinsed them again, being certain they were free of bacteria and bleach. I then went to the water store, filled them, got salt for the softener, and brought my water home. That was several weeks ago. I no longer run out of water. It’s worth the effort because I have fresh, pure water to drink.

It seems trivial to say that water was one of the ways I inched my way out of depression. Combined with leaving my room, taking a shower, and renewing contact with friends and family, it made and continues to make a difference. It’s one measure of self-care that helped me inch myself away from depression.

Drink water. Just don’t overdo it. Recommendations regarding the amount that’s right for you, your body type, and lifestyle are available from your healthcare practitioner or online.

* * * *

I am not a therapist, so if you or someone you love suffers depression, reach out; get help. However, I do believe we can do some simple things to help ourselves. My own continuing counsel about inching away from depression follows:

Ask yourself: Have you had a glass of cool, clear water in the last hour or so? Are you hydrated?

If your answer is no, then drink a glass of water. Other beverages do not count. Drinking water is not a magic potion to drive away the demons of depression. But while you thirst for wellness, remember to quench your body’s desire for water.

Aside from getting out of bed, taking a shower, connecting with friends and family, and drinking water, an article I saw on Facebook also helped immensely. I was not contemplating suicide, and was not ready to give up, but I was darker than I have been in years. Please read the article and if you are having dark days of your own, take the suggestions to heart.

The original can be downloaded in printable form at the following URL:

http://eponis.tumblr.com/post/113798088670/everything-is-awful-and-im-not-okay-questions-to

I will continue to share additional steps I took to inch my way out of depression.

Note: I welcome comments, even private ones, especially because depression is not something we want everyone to know we experience. If you would like to speak further about this subject, please feel free to contact me at mysistersgarden@gmail.com and we can communicate by e-mail or I will share my phone number. Be well. ~ Chris

The Connected Disconnected

I Began to Inch My Way Out

. . . of Depression

The Connected Disconnected

Part Three of a Continuing Series

Connection and isolation are the strange bedfellows of our always-on society. I say that I talked to someone on social media or someone commented on something I said. The truth is, I didn’t talk or comment—nor did anyone else. We typed. I also say I was in touch with a friend, but no touch was involved, except my fingers to a keyboard or a cell phone screen.

Much of what we call communication and connection now takes place in isolation. Even when we are with others—friends, family, colleagues—in physical form, one touch to a keyboard or screen re-creates isolation.

I don’t fault social media, texting, and electronic communication for the isolation that plagues many in our culture. But I know that in my darkest days this summer, most of my contact with people was through screens. Few voices were heard and little physical presence was felt.

In that isolation, my fears, once nebulous, took solid shape and grew. Not all my fears were unfounded, but in the sunless medium of isolation, mushroom-like, they expanded and took on a presence that dwarfed my own.

The advice—and it’s good advice—when we’re low is to seek the company of friends and family. However, during my recent bout with depression, the last thing I wanted to do was call or visit a friend or family member and burden them with my despondent state. I was aware my depression was serious and that I was nearing a dangerous level of despair. The thought of calling someone crossed my mind, but I shied away from reaching out. I felt guilty about feeling bad. I did not want my negativity to envelope those with whom I interacted. Worse, I believed people were as weary of my depression as I was. No way was I going to call anyone. I didn’t want to share that I simply felt awful, bleak . . .

I did speak with family, and as I noted in an earlier installment of “Inching My Way Out, . . .” I kept those conversations superficial.

I contacted no one, but someone contacted me. A long-time friend calls me to chat from time to time. Because we have been friends for decades, when she asked how I was, I was honest. I shared how I felt, how low I was, how despondent I had been. Even as I shared, I apologized for my honesty. I didn’t want her to feel bad because I felt bad. Dear friend that she is, she waved aside my apologies. We spoke for a long time, and just having that connection, being able to verbalize what had been happening, to say my fears out loud, loosened the grip of those fears. Sharing on a deep level connected me once again to thoughts, feelings, to the give and take of friendship, of conversation, of caring.

After I spoke to my friend, I realized how I had disconnected myself in many ways. I resolved then that I would reconnect, that I would stay in touch. A few days after the conversation with my friend, I called my sister. She didn’t answer, but when she saw my missed call, she called me right away. “Is everything okay?” she asked. “You never call, so I thought something must be wrong.”

Her words resonated with my feelings that it was important to reach out more often, to call, to speak, to visit.

The Catch 22 is that when I was at my lowest, I ignored the phone calls I received and made even fewer calls. Therefore, the advice to reach out to others—although fine advice—doesn’t work if you have fallen into a well of darkness. Before you fall into that well, if you are susceptible to depression, my advice is to check your social activity. How long has it been since you spoke to or visited a family member or a friend? How long has it been since you gathered with others to celebrate and/or sustain your spiritual beliefs?

My advice doesn’t end there. Most of us know people who suffer depression, who have dark days, who are sometimes overcome with the demands of simply being human. If you haven’t spoken to a friend or family member whom you know has struggled or struggles with depression, contact that person. If you haven’t spoken to a family member or friend you miss and love, contact that person even if depression isn’t a factor.

One invaluable benefit of contacting a person who is suffering depression or experiencing a life challenge is they realize someone does care about them. That small act can be an open window to look away from depression.

Human contact—and I mean voice or in person—keeps us anchored in the world. Knowing someone cares enough to get in touch sends ripples of care and concern throughout our existence. Human contact also generates love and laughter in our lives, keeping us functioning and whole. Interaction with others signals a healthy life, a healthy psyche.

A phone call or visit with family or friends isn’t a magic pill to chase demons away, but it can be a valuable effort to reach out if we are battling demons or to connect with someone whom we know battles demons. Human contact, voice, touch, involvement, are essential components of inching toward wholeness that don’t take much effort.

If someone you love suffers from depression and you haven’t spoken to or seen that person for an extended period of time, make the effort to get in touch. When you do, ask how they really are doing. If necessary, encourage them to seek help. Seek help yourself if isolation and disconnection have become a pattern in your life.

* * * * *

I am not a therapist, so if you or someone you love suffers depression, reach out, get help. However, I do believe we can do some simple things to help ourselves. My own continuing counsel about inching away from depression follows:

Ask yourself if you have spoken to or visited with a friend recently. Ask yourself if you have spoken to or seen a family member recently.

If your answer is no, then pick up the phone and make a call. Text messages, e-mails, and personal messages on social media do not count. You don’t have to discuss your depression. At the same time, you don’t have to pretend that life is perfect. The simple act of connecting with people can be the beginning of inching your way back to wellness.

Aside from getting out of bed, taking a shower, and connecting with friends and family, an article I saw on Facebook also helped immensely. I was not contemplating suicide, and was not ready to give up, but I was darker than I have been in years. Please read the article and if you are having dark days of your own, take the suggestions to heart.

The original can be downloaded in printable form at the following URL:

http://eponis.tumblr.com/post/113798088670/everything-is-awful-and-im-not-okay-questions-to

I will continue to share additional steps I took to inch my way out of depression.

Note: I welcome comments, even private ones, especially because depression is not something we want everyone to know we experience. If you would like to speak further about this subject, please feel free to contact me at mysistersgarden@gmail.com and we can communicate by e-mail or I will share my phone number. Be well. ~ Chris

Who Was That Woman Wearing Eau de Fish Emulsion?

I Began to Inch My Way Out

. . . of Depression, Part Two

Take a Shower and Get Dressed

It’s Not Glib Advice

Dirty feet, oily hair, and a slap-dash outfit grabbed from an overflowing basket of unfolded clothes were yet more signs that I was depressed. I probably didn’t look like I was veering toward bag-lady status, but I felt that way. I avoided mirrors and did minimal self-care.

When I scanned the “Everything Is Awful and I’m Not Okay . . . list, I read the question: “Have you showered in the last day? If not, take a shower right now.”

I knew I hadn’t showered that day, but was it the day before, or the day before that? I had been procrastinating about early-morning showers because I wanted to wait until after I gardened. But then it got too hot, or I didn’t have the energy, so I didn’t garden and because I wasn’t that dirty, I didn’t shower. Or I had plans to go somewhere later in the day and told myself I would shower right before I went out. I then would change my mind because it took too much effort to go anywhere.

On a particularly low day, I forced myself to fertilize the plants on my patio before they suffered malnutrition. After I finished, I realized I needed a vitamin formula for my plants and had to go to Lowe’s. “It’s the garden center,” I rationalized, “so it doesn’t matter what I’m wearing. I’ll wash my hands to get rid of the fish emulsion odor.”

I look back and shake my head. I don’t recognize myself or my thinking process. “Who was that woman in the filthy Levi’s and stained tank top wearing eau de fish emulsion?” I answer with relief, “She has now left the building.”

I read the question again, “Have you showered in the last day?” I heard a command to do it right now, and I obeyed.

Taking a shower isn’t a cure-all for depression. But it has value we often don’t consider. When we don’t shower or groom ourselves daily, to put it in the simplest terms, we aren’t clean, nor are we fresh, ready to greet someone at the door, or go to the grocery store without embarrassment.

Being depressed is trial enough and a weight that is difficult to carry. Skip a shower for a few days and the depression is compounded by self-chastising and a sense of physical unease. Even minimal self-care gives a depressed person one small thing to boost sagging spirits. Rather than thinking, “I’m gross. I can’t even pull it together to take a shower,” one can say, “At least I’m showered and dressed for the day.”

Every day, since I answered “No,” to the shower question, I now can answer “Yes.”

Inching my way out of depression started when I left my room. It continues when I’m well-groomed with unwrinkled clothes, brushed hair, and bit of makeup each day.

Again, a daily shower isn’t a magic pill to chase the demons away, but neither is it glib advice to say, “Take a shower and get dressed.” It is an essential inch toward wholeness that doesn’t take much effort.

If someone you love has gotten careless with their personal appearance and grooming, take an extra step and go beyond the superficial in your communication with them. Ask how they really are doing. If necessary, encourage them to seek help. Seek help yourself if the lack of personal care resonates with you.

I am not a therapist, so if you or someone you love suffers depression, reach out; get help. However, I do believe we can do some simple things to help ourselves. My own continuing counsel about inching away from depression follows:

Ask yourself if you have showered in the last day.

If your answer is no, then take a shower or a bath and get dressed. You don’t have to go anywhere afterward or even pretend that all is well in life. The simple act of even minimal self-care can be the beginning of inching your way back to wellness.

Aside from getting out of bed and taking a shower, an article I saw on Facebook also helped immensely. I was not contemplating suicide, and was not ready to give up, but I was darker than I have been in years. Please read the article and if you are having dark days of your own, take the suggestions to heart.

The original can be downloaded in printable form at the following URL:

http://eponis.tumblr.com/post/113798088670/everything-is-awful-and-im-not-okay-questions-to

Note: I welcome comments, even private ones, especially because depression is not something we want everyone to know we experience. If you would like to speak further about this subject, please feel free to contact me at mysistersgarden@gmail.com and we can communicate by e-mail or I will share my phone number. Be well. ~ Chris

I will share additional steps I took to inch my way out of depression in a few days.

Inching My Way Out of Depression

I Began to Inch My Way Out

. . . of Depression

“I began to inch my way out of it,” are the words I used to tell a friend about my recent depression. It lasted five long weeks, the worst of it for almost three of those weeks. It’s faded now and I see only slivers of that darkness at the edges of my peripheral vision. I don’t focus on them and instead gaze at the possibilities ahead of me, rather than dwell on those five weeks when I saw little beyond my closed bedroom door.

During the bleakest days, I told no one. I didn’t speak of my phase of darkness until I began creeping away from my bed, which was piled high with books to lure me away from the world.

My son, who lives with me, knew I was low, but I hid my feelings well. I used the excuse of little work and weariness from the oppressive Florida summer heat to stem any concerns he may have had regarding my long hours in my room.

At my lowest point, I stopped writing Morning Pages, which I had been doing almost daily since I read Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way fifteen years ago. I stopped all other writing. I made few to no phone calls, and when I answered those I received, I kept to the most trivial and mundane of subjects. I told people the cold that wouldn’t loosen its grip on me was the reason I didn’t feel well. (That cold likely contributed to the depression because physical illness often exacerbates emotional/psychological illness.)

I don’t remember much of what I did during those weeks beyond my absorption in Margaret Atwood novels, Anna Quidlen’s One True Thing, Sue Monk Kidd’s The Invention of Wings, Ken Follett’s World Without End, Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro, The Lost Memoirs of Jane Austen by Syrie James . . . maybe a few more. I made some feeble efforts at nonfiction, like Oprah Winfrey’s What I Know for Sure, but those books reminded me that I wasn’t enough and hadn’t achieved enough and showed me so many paths to take that I became even more weary when I tried reading them. I couldn’t escape myself by reading self-help books, so I avoided them.

I know depression is serious and the best advice counsels us to get help. But when the sticky arms of despondence wrap around the depressed as they did around me, it’s hard to pry away our hands to reach for that help. It often isn’t even a consideration. It wasn’t for me.

What did help was the simple suggestion of changing my morning routine. It was what moved me out of my bed. The suggestion came up during a conversation that did not involve depression. It was about being in a rut and repeating the same behaviors. For years, I had fetched my morning coffee, after additions of chocolate, sugar, and milk, and returned to my room, where I wrote Morning Pages, read daily meditations, prayed, did yoga, and then showered, dressed, and started my day. In the depths of my depression, I still fetched my morning coffee, but I placed it on my bedside table, climbed back in bed, and started reading a book. I often stayed there for hours, leaving only to go to the kitchen to get more coffee, and then later in the day something to drink or eat, which I brought back to my bed.

My first inches away from depression were when I changed my morning routine and my feet took me and a cup of tea into the living room. It was then that I left my bedroom and started the process of leaving my depression. My early morning hours are now spent sitting—and writing—in a comfortable living room chair, a cup of tea on a table at my side. The sliding glass doors present a view of my yard, of orchids and hoyas hanging on the patio, of pine and palm trees at the edge of my property. Bird melodies tune my ears to the waking world.

Looking out those glass doors each morning began the gentle tug that pulled my psyche away from myself and my absorption in all that I feared and avoided in life. I no longer tucked my weary soul beneath the covers of my bed and between the pages of books.

Now that I am on my way to wellness, I shy away from hours in my room behind a closed door. I sleep and do yoga there. What I once considered a sanctuary I had turned into a hermitage. Like many other things in my life right now, I have put my bedroom in its proper place.

I am not a therapist, so if you or someone you love suffers depression, reach out; get help. However, I do believe we can do some simple things to help ourselves. My own counsel about inching away from depression follows:

If you are in bed, ask yourself two questions:

Is it bedtime?

Am I sick?

If the answer is no, then get up. You don’t have to run a marathon, paint a watercolor, write a novel, or clean the bathroom. The simple act of moving your body to another location is a valuable first step. It can be the beginning of inching your way back to wellness.

Aside from getting out of bed, an article I saw on Facebook also helped immensely. I was not contemplating suicide, and was not ready to give up, but I was darker than I have been in years. Please read the article and if you are having dark days of your own, take the suggestions to heart.

The original can be downloaded at the following URL:

http://eponis.tumblr.com/post/113798088670/everything-is-awful-and-im-not-okay-questions-to

I will share the next steps I took to inch my way out of depression tomorrow.

Note: I welcome comments, even private ones, especially because depression is not something we want everyone to know we experience. If you would like to speak further about this subject, please feel free to contact me at mysistersgarden@gmail.com and we can communicate by e-mail or I will share my phone number. Be well. ~ Chris

That Blue!

Stunning Blue Pea Vine

 True, deep blue, the Blue Pea Vine, Clitoria ternatea, is a tender perennial in zones 10a to 11. It likes full sun, is a great climber, and self-seeds. A white variety, Clitoria ternatea, Alba, also is available. It grows well in my Central Florida garden and tolerates a short, light frost. You’re guaranteed continuous plants because it self-sows, even though it is a tender perennial in Central and South Florida. It blooms most often in the warmer days of spring, summer, and fall. It is possible it could be grown as an annual in colder areas, but plants must be started inside long before the last frost to ensure enough time and growth for blooms to appear.

I found my first blue pea vine at Tropical Ranch Botanical Gardens in Stuart, Florida. When I killed it by trimming too close with the weed whacker, I had trouble finding a replacement. It’s an unusual plant, so you won’t find it at the big box store garden centers. I found seeds online from Onalee’s Seeds. I recently saw plants at Giverny Gardens in Jupiter, Florida.

It’s easy to grow with a minimum of care. It’s a favorite of mine because of the stunning blue flowers that attract bees and butterflies.

* * * * *

Note: I’m continuing a three-day, flower-a-day challenge I was given on Facebook. I want to provide more information about the flowers I grow, so I’ve moved the flowers to my blog. I will have seeds available for the blue pea vine in another month. You can contact me at mysistersgarden@gmail.com if you are interested in purchasing them.

The Sun in the Steam

Simple Sensory White Blouse

Clothesline-dried, my white cotton blouse is far too wrinkled to wear.
I press the nose of the iron to the collar.

A gentle puff of steam wafts toward my face.

Scents of blue skies, sunlight, and breezes pique my senses.

I breathe in . . .