Cursed
Posted on 2003-03-25
Earlier I watched my next-door neighbours children playing outside, laughing and smiling, and skipping up the street. As I watched them I remembered how good that simple exercise used to make me feel as a child and I remember thinking back then that maybe all adults ought to skip - maybe that would stop them being angry with me all the time???
Today, looking in the mirror, I realised how silly that thought actually was. Skipping isn't going to help an adult rid themselves of their problems. Just looking at the pale faced reflection staring back at me was all the confirmation that I needed. The lank hair in need of washing, the black bags under her eyes, and the drawn skin were enough. What more proof did I need???
You should pull yourself out of this, I thought. It was terrifying that a single incident, and then a follow-up bit of bad news could puncture me and make deflate like a balloon. The mood I'm in is nothing more than another symptom.
I always thought of myself as tough. I hoped that I was kind. But I knew deep down inside that I was tough. If I had a goal, I reached it, and if ever my life didn't go to plan, I'd bounce back. You have to don't you???
My Uncle once said to me,
'Life is full of injustice, and for your own sanity you cannot take it personally. Sure, you can cry in the bath - that's not weak, that's necessary - as long as it doesn't become a habit. Often, happiness is a choice. You have to seek it out, no matter what happens, or how hard it's hidden from view.'
And yet yesterday night I accidently dropped a plate and burst into tears because I'd wanted to eat a chicken salad sandwich, and the only chicken in the house (apart from me), was now lying at my feet covered in splinters of broken china.
These days, this is the level of the problems that make me fall. There is no fight left in me. My relationship is failing and I can't be bothered to save it. It's too much effort to wash my hair - something I always do at least every two days no matter what. After walking upstairs I have to sit on the edge of my bed for 10 minutes to catch my breath before I do anything else. What kind of life is this???
Mark, my cousin, trying to be helpful suggested that going for a walk in the spring sunshine might help. Afterall, isn't exercise good for depression??? But I can't see how it will help me. I'm not just 'a bit low'. I can change my location, go outside and change my surroundings, but I will be the same. I'll just be depressed in a different place.
Why me???, says the little voice inside all of us that believes evil happens to other people. When you dust yourself off and vow to try again and not be beaten, fate is supposed to give you a break. That's the deal - the reward for being tough. This must be a sign.
I feel cursed.