June 26, 2012
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Weeping Today; I Do Not Know Why
I have always cried easily, a family trait, for we Scot Irish mixed American Indian bloods are like that, but it has gotten worse since last year’s visit to the other side when a blood clot could easily have crashed in to one of my hear vessels and sent me packing, the deep six, call it what you may; I was very near my death, so out of no where, like battle fatigue, one just has times when everything seems a little to much, and the tears come, that special bath of saline and water, perfectly measured to keep your eyes moist spills over, and you are grieving, simply grieving, and some would say; “You are just depressed,” and you need someone to counsel you, to walk you up that yelllow brick road to the local bar and enjoying shots with the perfect orange zest and a lime peel made into a work of art to sip on.”
Then, there is always talk therapy; Oh My God; may you never have to pay for talk therapy, for it is probably best to take yourself out and to do whatever might cheer you up, for Barbara Streisand and I could probably share talk therapy, and that part of our epitaph should read that it was time better spent with a really good friend or a Parish Priest. Those Sisters of Mercy could probably break out some cheese and wine if you are willing to have some talk with Jesus while you are there. We have counselors; And I will bet that Ms. Stresand and I could share some battle scars, but I am not Jewish and could not say things quite so, just right, with that small amount of annoyance, vim and vigor. It would not sound right for me to say, “And you sat for a thousand tears to hear that Schlemiel hand you some Freudian Faccata kissed with Jungian epithets and Oprah’s bent on giving psychologist their own TV show? Sweetie; Take it from me that I just wanted to nap on the couch, cover my touche with silk, and take a nap! “Oh how can you say those things Barbra; How, knowing that I am this girl who believes that if it is in writing; then it must be true, and these guys have written some incredible case studies, I mean, INCREDJBLE,” and then we would have a nice laugh, and I would leave with an, “Obama for President sticker for my car,”
“Don’t be so critical, she would have said;” “You’re a Mench, if you would lose that bottom lookin’ like a mound of sweet butter, so do not lot all those chuck steaks convince you that you’re any thing but filet mignon,” and she would have left me with those words to hang on to. You see, she came to realize that playing a psychiatrist was better than being one, for you could, at least, get an Oscar for the performance. Why do I have the sudden urge to push my hair back on both sides? I would think some transference has gone on here, that remembering Barbra’s depression went away when she found the right kind of guy to just cuddle through the hours was all she ever needed after all. “Amen, she is cured.”
I am thinking of all others of you my friends who may feel sad this night, who might be crying for the, “No good reason,” that I usually have and I wonder what is your comfort and consolation. If you tell me smoked tongue and latkes, then I am done forl Oh, save me from tongue, and know that anything a cow has belched on is not my cup of kindness, but I want to hear from all of you with the cares of the world on your shoulders where you find comfort when your tears come, and you just cannot stop them. I might even suck it up and tell you what I really do when the going gets too hard to seize the hours and to find any joy in them.
So, here’s the table; Give us a hand, and tell us what you think psychotherapy achieves that a best friend cannot or your Pastor, Priest, or Rabbi. Have you come to terms with depression with all of its quacky ways of screwing up your insides, and showing that you are remorseful on the outside. This is your turn to share something so meaningful and even life changing. If you become more depressed just thinking about this; Forget this blog, and head for the nearest mental health clinic, and just alwaays remember that we cycle between depression and just being Okay, and that if you can laugh at your darkness, have the desire to spit on Sigmund Freud’s grave or any such urge; you are one of us, and we make it, because our table is full of coping methods through the worst of times.
Alright, how do you battle the days of tears, and is it working to lower the number of days of your depression. Lay it on me, for I want to know if we are in a new age for psychiatric emergencies, and know there is no shame in having a disorder, but the shame is if you do not, at least, tell someone how badly that you are feeling.
Good night, and I can’t wait to hear from you,
Barbara Everett Heintz, Author of Pinkhoneysuckle , Book on Amazon and Create Space, Kindle Ready, as well as this little place and gift of my blog – Also called, “Pinkhoneysuckle”
Comments (9)
I’m on my way to work and just read this. Funny and not..I spent six months on a shrinks couch and at the end he said “Don’t you want to blame this on your Mother?: I got so mad I know I must have been wagging my finger at that man. My Mother did the best that she could with what she had. We are all limited in certain ways and get blocks from time to time. With that I walked out and never went back. I answered my own questions with my own answer at the end. Now I listen to good meditation and yoga music to calm my nerves..that and a little red wine. And I have learned to wear it out in writing which is really a great way to get rid of your haints. You take good care and I will talk to you again soon…Hugs!
bk
You write so beautifully!!! I definitely have my melancholy times. Sometimes I drink, sometimes watch funny videos, sometimes just cry for a bit. All things pass..
My whole life has been a war with depression. I have had to have a very rude awakening in order to begin to understand how to win the battles. Good friends, family, exercise, meditation, good books and TV – they all help. But the real healing balm is meaning.
Good Morning, Barb,
I became very depressed when I was 40. I was clinically depressed, could hardly work, quiet, and numb. i went to a psychologist out of town due to their newspaper ad. I had six visits with her. She made me go back into my earliest memories and asked opened questions. I was surprised what came out of my mouth—I had memories surface that had been buried. She had me begin to list the good things that I had done in life and to think about those. My early abuse and response to the abuse was the root cause. Also, some sadistic behavior done to me in grade school added to my depression.
I am now 78 and looking back, I think the counselor helped a lot.
At age 74, i read the book, ‘The Disease to Please’ and it changed my life. I was a people pleaser and passivie. Another affect with the book was my level of awareness increased 10 fold. I saw things so much clearly–even got jealous and told my wife why. She loved it that I could get jealous said she would tease me even more. She did. lol Then, and very out of character, I had anger and rage surface like an erupting volcano, and i realized that had been there all along. The book did this for me.
Looking back, i realize that when I was abused and treated sadistically, it had a major negative affect on me–on the inside. In my ‘real’ life, I was a good guy, went to college, had a great career, became a Christian, and had many moves dud to my career–20 times in 40 years.
I still fight my people pleasing instincts and am inclined to be passive, but I do speak up now when it is necessary.
frank
lmao…i cant help it because of the image of Streisand. I hope i dont have to go on friends lock for saying this, but as a retired psychologist, i think you’re right. You’re better off talking to a friend that at least knows how to listen. But i dont know how long you’d be able to listen to Streisand unless you were pretty drunk.
Hope you feel better soon.
The sad times don’t come as much as they used to come. When they come, they no longer have the power to knock me off my feet. Therapy was a big help.
Were he not such a darned Methodist, our relationship would probably have gone another way, but he is honorable to his wife, but she does not know about me; Whereas my husband has met this man, gone out the door, and left us to our special time.
In truth, I think my husband would have given him a share of what we have to get me off of his back long ago. The truth is that when I started seeing this fellow as a psychiatrist; I had to stop seeing him after a few years, for you could feel the heat in the room when I walked in, and it went both ways. He was hurt the years I disappeared to raise our children, but even when we are older and get back together; It is like yesterday. Now, he says he wants me to be around to make him laugh in the nursing home, for we laugh, eat, talk, and are so happy in our few hours.
So I am here to tell you, my psychologist friend, that we and you are only human, and talk therapy will continue as long as people pay for it, and I know that you trained hard to get where you are. Happy retirement. God bless you for the great laugh. Honesty so well spoken is a pearl! Do you think my next book should be a love story?
Love, and Blessings,
Barb Hz, (His wife is a treasure to him, so it is not just the Methodist thing!)
Thank you. Thank you.
@Erika_Steele -
Erika, Your sensitive nature comes out all over your writing, so it is no surprise to me that you, as most creative people have the blues. The centuries have shown that people who are seriously artistic, especially writers are struggling with some deep within which ontcomes out like prose, a symphony of words. I simply pray for you, like me, to have just the brief stretches, the short times of weeping, and to know to ask for a time with a loving and trusted person, or yes; the Drs. have their place.
I could suggest that people, if they are able to, write down when the melancholy begins and when it ends, and of course that is what you think of when you are hurting; Let me get out the legal pad here and do some recording. I just learned that I can stand most things for an amount of time which I know will end. Things got really bad after the embolism, for I knew that I had almost died a second time, and as a patient I was just so good and cooperative, but then all of my supports left after about 4 months. I had to line up a team in Cincinnati when I went back there to be on call for if I clotted off again, or worse, had a minor brain bleed which would stroke me out, because of the anticoagulants, so I went in to a deep and dark low period.
I have suffered since my one twin was essentially raped and could not get out of a woman supervisor who waited until she was drunk and 21. My daughter is so beautiful, never had a lesbian sign, was talking about boys and marriage two weeks before this went on, but of all that I have asked her to do; I could not get her to step back, and now she is 25, has drawn a deep chasm between her father and me, because I asked her after it all happened to take three to four months, because this supervisor was working on her from Catherine’s 18th birthday on.
Catherine will never understand that it was not all about her, and she is going to suffer career loss now, for Cincinnati is a city which does not go in for this; Oh you became gay overnight. I live in the heart of GLBT, and my daughter was brain washed. The silly girl does not even know that it is a compliment to be a , “Lipstick Lesbian,” She does not want to be called, “Dyke,” and this gal has eight years on my daughter who has some family security; The two of them are still living with her parents who call themselves, “Catholic,” and know this; I love gay people, but my daughter is living a lie, watching her youthful beauty leave her, hanging out with the para medics, and all the gay groups around town. I think losing Catherine was losing a dear friend, for we did everything together, and we enjoyed our days. I feel robbed of a child’s love who was afraid to take three months away, because she knew I would request counseling.
I pray for her so. I am grateful that it has brought me closer to a child who needs me, and for whom Catherine could take the attention from, for she avoided dating in her prep Catholic school where people were being forced to try things out both ways. Then she waited 8 years for a guy who had a real girlfriend, used her to coordinate his band who had a national following — and a girlfriend.
I say this to end with, then I feel such shame, for mothers lose their children in dessert dust, from sticking anything and everything chemical in their body, and around graduation; Then we have the car wrecks, but that gave me a very long depression which I thought I was not going to be able to shake.
At a time when you see the tunnel, and it was there, when I was near death from the PE; Only then was I able to let her go, for she used to express so much love for me, and I know now that she is gone into her other home. If she is able to let me go even when life is tenuous, then I accept that my girl is not there, for she went away one night to a dark place, and she left me, my baby, a twin. She is not mine; No; she belongs to the universe, and she will be explaining her demons when middle age comes to her. Dad and I are apt to be in the home or dead, so she must walk it alone. I am here, but girlfriend is not welcome. I should be a cool mom, but being cool in this case is a lie.
Those are hurts that cannot be placed on a schedule, but if you see, for instance a three to four day cycle emerge; Then you know it is time to do anything which makes you happy, and leave other people to their own problems until you feel better. I may have written this before, for I have responses, and I need to give people some time. This is so gratifying to be able to offer some insight; Barbra and Barbara
Love and Blesssings. Write me if you are down, we caan talk about it.
Always, “Pinkhoneysuckle”, the book which shows people what others can stand and live with hope of coming out with some love along the way…
I always write when I am feeling blue. I used to paint or draw. I don’t keep track of when I am depressed. It usually is a result of my PTSD.
I hope that you and your daughter can make amends. Life is too short and precious.