Chronic Depression – SUSAN TODD MARTIN

A Power Play Please

Do something! Say something! Move a muscle, change a thought!

All seems to be running smoothly-till it’s not, and it’s not; right now.

How? Every thing seemed peachy-‘seemed’ being the operative word here. I seem like I’m young and beautiful-but is it truly the case? It ‘seems’ nice and comfortable outside-until you open the door and the 100°, 90% humidity slaps you around. Then it ‘seems’ like you are dying of heat stroke(which you may actually be if you don’t wise up and dash back inside).

I have been on this couch for hours. Hours! I wake up, try to get up. Ponder it for a few dazed minutes. Then, with a sigh, I melt back into the blanket, squishing my head into the pillow, praying for alertness to magically reach in and yank me into an energized reality. It has yet to. Although, I must admit I did rise long enough to walk Kleo, feed the cats, her, and me. Then, drawn into the couch’s magnetic field I succumbed again.

Someone may say, oh, you must need the sleep. Your body knows what it needs. No, I humbly disagree. My body knows how to seek a place to hibernate, sinking into the very fibers if this sofa till only my hands and feet will be left on the surface. Mute witnesses to the me that once was.

I must fight this lesser nature, fill my mind with the memories of zestful living, long for that movement, yearn for that freedom, strain to break free!!

When will living feel like less of an epic battle? Probably never. Does that mean I should give in, give up, throw in the proverbial towel? No! The opposite: FIGHT, SISTER!! THROW OFF THAT STRANGLING BLANKET! RISE UP AND FIGHT FOR ANOTHER DAY!

Whew!! Ok! Ok, I will, I AM! I am motivated, I am engaged, I am leaping back into life!

In…just…a…minute. Right now…yawn!…I think I’ll just stretch out for one second…just…one…sec…

Fear of Falling (failing?)

“…I will ride this one out today…”

Have you ever felt totally overwhelmed? That has landed on me today, a crushing weight, and I feel powerless. I like to forget my illness sometimes, and it is SO deceitful to me; top of the world for weeks, but It is always waiting. Just around the corner.

My cat Zagnut loves to play hide and seek, and he’ll leap out from around a corner, swat me on the leg and dash away, one hundred miles an hour. If I am cogent, I’ll dash after him, then retreat-to leap out at him in turn. The only problem is that “It” doesn’t let me play back. It just leaps out, when I seem to be doing well, latching onto me like a 150 pound panther, dragging me into It’s lair.

It’s dark in here, and smells of sweat and fear. I just know It is coming back, but I’m wounded. All kinds of nasty doubts swirl in my head…was I a fool to think I could be a sculptor? Why do I want to, anyway. Nobody buys my art, I’m a failure and the house seems to be echoing my mood by failing too. Leaks, creaks, holes, breakers tripping, no AC…I can feel that panther’s breath now…

This is not new, this trip down into It’s den. No, I recognize it oh, so well. I believe the worst is the immobility, standing frozen in It’s gaze and being unable to dash away. I know what I need to do, but the strength escapes me. The therapist I liked so well has left the building (literally), I know I can call for an appointment with the new one…but. I know that I get paid in a few days and the house won’t collapse any time soon…but. I know that I can call any one of many friends and talk, if I just pick up the phone…but. But but but butt head.

Inside Voice #2 ‘Not Quiet Down’ ©STMartin2021

So I have done the one thing I can do without moving. I went inside my head, got on my mind’s knees, and cried out to God. You see, I know he is the ONLY ONE who can close It’s gaping jaws. He did it for Daniel and he will do it for me. I just have to exercise patience and make a tiny effort to climb out of this death trap of discouragement. It is It’s favorite tactic, because It knows that despair and feelings of worthlessness lead me to the edge of the abyss. And when I stand at the edge of a great hight it feels like I’m being pulled right over the edge. But my God hears me, he helps the broken hearted, and those crushed in spirit he saves.

I am able to write this, and that is my answer for today. I will not lose this fight, for my God is stronger that anything my illness can do, or anyone else, for that matter. Sure, my brain is wired different, science has proved that bipolar brains behave differently. What science forgets is the One who created that same brain.

I must have forgotten that for a minute, also. I will ride this one out today. And if the phone isn’t too heavy, I’ll call for that appointment. Thanks for listening.

Inside Voice #1, “Can You Hear Me Now?” w/p©SusanTMartin2021

The Kitchen Drawer, a short story

Dreaming of daisies and butterfly gardens, I find myself running thru mazes and tunnels, sure there are blue skies somewhere above ground…

How do I get there -Is it safe to come out now?

Deep in the cellar of abysmal memories, I remember a guy who pretended to love me.

Remember the father who left without leaving-a mother whose mothering I would attend to.

The weather has taken a turn for the grey. Icky, foggy, similar to brain matter…if I just lie down for a minute, I will just rest here…

…the dream begins…

Whats for Dinner, Mom? Aw, carrion again?

The girl stands in her yellow kitchen. Her husband will return soon. Boring old Jed. Why did she marry an accountant? She wonders at times if she ever mattered to the one she truly loved:

The windows need cleaning, the tea has grown cold-cold like the heart, cold like the hearth.

Cold, blue steel-a dead weight in the hand; Cold, dead stone in the heart of a man.

( Sing mockingbird, sing your bright song , sing of such joy can you bring me along?

Top of tall tree, float over hill, please let me join you, oh sing, if you will!

Remind me of meadows the smell of fresh hay : we’ll gallop, we’ll frolic , we will dance, we will play!

Gentle moonbeams gather far over our heads, a blanket of bluebells will cover our bed.

Hold me till morning with kisses on lips and hands needing holding in the tenderest grip.

My head lays upon your ever-strong chest, “You’ll never leave me-no not like the rest.”

“I will not let you”, I scream in my pain, ” you will regret ever straying again!”

“Let darkness fall- you will not run :You’ll know my rage from the end of this gun…”)

****************************************************************************

Yes, maybe I did matter, the girl muses…sighing, she wraps the revolver gently back up and tucks it deep under the kitchen towels, bumping the drawer shut with her hip.

Over the Humpty-Dump

Oh, the fun of a downward spiral…After a week or two of just mind blowing energy and creativity, comes the inevitable crash. This time it was about a week of doldrums, pain, negativity and actual physical illness, all of which I attribute to this illness called Bipolar Disorder.

The worst part of a depressive episode, besides dishes and dirty laundry accumulating , and unmade beds and unmopped floors, is this: Lack of Creativity . It cripples me. Makes me agonize about my ability, question my work, my path, my life course. I think of a million different ways I am a failure, and I become totally immobilized, sucked into my squishy pillow, and held captive by doubt. Even though I know what is happening , and know my thoughts are tangled for a time, I am still unable to make a move.

I can best liken it to being held hostage, until the cycle passes.

So-here I am today, a new day, a new cycle! We are on the upswing, baby!! Hold on tight, cause I am an artist extraordinaire, a churning swirling dervish holding 10 brushes in one hand while I work on 5 canvases at one time !!!WOO HOO!!!

Another Incredible Tiny Table ready for someones patio!!

A little bit of Gallery Wrapped Joy ready for sale!

All in All, I’m just too hot to handle right now, and I’m painting like a human tornado!!! Ok, maybe just a little dust devil, but you get the idea!!! Let it Fly, say I!!!!wheeeee!

Feeling at War with Myself

I have been languishing here, letting myself fall off the edge of sanity for a while. Is it physical?emotional?spiritual? No, not spiritual, for I feel close to my Creator. I just feel diminished, somehow, like my life’s blood has been watered down. Perhaps when the rainy season ends I will blossom again. Till then, my friend, bear with me…

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Dreaming of daisies and butterfly gardens, I find myself running thru mazes and tunnels, sure there are blue skies somewhere above ground…

Let Fly Say I:

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