Sometimes when we are living with depression, we just need to know that someone cares. It doesn’t matter if it’s from afar, or even if we personally know the provider. Am I right?
Are you living with depression? Are you consumed with how to cope with anxiety? I think you’ll find some comfort here.
A lazy Saturday afternoon it is. Didn’t sleep worth a damn last night, with 45 mph winds pounding my bedroom window, and bunches on my mind.
So you know what? What better time to park it and write a chipur article just for you? And, yes, me.
I was perusing my poetry collection, and one I’d written 12 years ago jumped out and bit me on the nose. Don’t ask me why, but I knew it was the perfect poem to share with all who are living with depression and learning how to cope with anxiety — with an accompanying message, of course.
So how ‘bout some background?
My marriage ended 16 years ago. And any of you who’ve endured that nightmare know just how much it hurts. Some four years after all hell broke loose, I was well into my recovery. I became very active at a church, and befriended a couple and their children.
Oh, you know how these things go, they appeared to have the “perfect marriage.” Fact of the matter was, things had to be pretty rocky at home, because word got out that “Amy” was having an affair with a prominent church member. And it wasn’t long before the couple attended services and church activities together.
Understandably, no one saw much of “Rick” for a time. But with great courage, he began attending services again. Imagine, going to church knowing your soon-to-be ex-wife and her flame would be sitting just pews away.
Given I’d gone through a very difficult ending of a marriage four years earlier, I felt very badly for Rick – and, really, Amy, as well. And when I thought about their children, tears welled-up in my eyes. (Talk about living with depression)
On one particular Sunday, I was sitting at the back of the sanctuary – and Rick, sitting alone at the front, caught my eye. My feelings? Well, that evening I wrote this poem…
And I Know
I see you
You’re staring
And alone in a crowd
And I know what you’re feeling
Yes
I’ve warmed your chair
Worn and pressed your clothes
Scuffed and shined your shoes
I’ve cried your tears
And swallowed your pride
True
From this distance
I’d take your hand
‘Cause I know it begs to be warmed
I’d offer my arms
‘Cause I know you need to be held
If only you’d sense you’re not alone
You’d surely feel my prayer
But no
You won’t show and tell
Shame grips your tongue
Pain builds your walls
And rage shuts you down
And I know
You can be sure of one you could trust
Sitting here
Alone
Together
Now, your present circumstances may not exactly match Rick’s. But the need for connection, identity, empathy, care, and love – much less, a hug – transcends situational detail.
No matter where you are, if you are coping with anxiety, living with depression or whatever it is that you may be enduring, please know someone’s thinking about you – even if it’s from afar, and you don’t personally know him.
Are you living with anxiety and depression? Are you consumed with how to cope?
Just know someone cares. It can work wonders in getting you through a difficult time.
Would you like to read more chipur Feelin’ Better articles like this one — Living with Depression? Care from Afar! — then just tap here, okay?
P.S. If you know of someone living with depression,then please share this article with them…they will thank you for it.
Couldn’t have come at a better time.
Here I sit on a Sunday afternoon, rocked to my core from
a mighty anxiety attack, yesterday afternoon.
So disheartening when you’ve come so far.
Always here for you, freefalling. I remember those days all too well. And I’m here to tell you what you’re enduring doesn’t at all have to be a permanent arrangement. Keep moving forward, okay? I’m so glad you checked-in…
Bill
Thank you Bill for those kind and reassuring words.
This PA taught me a lesson. When I first started getting PA’s years ago, I fought against them and pushed them down – then most recently I tried to deconstruct them and fix them (and my depression and anxiety) which I’ve spent 12 months doing, only to realize I don’t really have any big scary, hairy issues hiding anywhere but now, I’m moving into acceptance. Maybe they will never go away completely and that’s okay. As long as I have some tools to help me move through them and then get up again and keep living and loving life – I think I can learn to accept that.
It’s a little bit like those 5 stages of grief, isn’t it?