Depression is a funny creature. Just when you think you are in the clear, She sneaks up behind you and pulls you back in.
Between the desire
And the spasm
Between the potency
And the existence
Between the essence
And the descent
Falls the Shadow
The Hollow Men, T.S. Eliot
Recently I have been experiencing major anxiety over my relationships and interactions with my female friends. As I posted some days ago, I seem to have taken on the role of therapist among them. This would be okay if just one or another needed advice or a shoulder to cry on at any given time, but it has begun to eat up my whole life. As a friend of mine put it, they’ve become
My husband is a proud man. He is Italian, and – as much as I hate sweeping generalizations – passion and pride are at the top of my list of characteristics of your average Italian (man). While I do mean passion in the romantic or sexual sense, I also mean in all aspects of their lives.
Loss started, for me, with the death of my mother’s mother in 2007. It wasn’t exactly sudden, although I took it very hard. She was only 61 and, apart from her Emphysema, extremely healthy. I will always remember the click and whir sound her breathing apparatus made as she struggled for breath in bed over her last days. She wasn’t even a smoker.
We were always like two peas in a pod. Referring to the interests we shared, my mother always said, “It skips a generation.” It was true – my mother never took any interest in our hobbies. She sewed, crocheted, beaded, and knitted among other activities – all which she passed on to me. My Nana was always so proud to show me off to her stitch-n’-bitch groups. She had also participated in the WAF program which made her one of the first active-duty women in the US Air Force…
Have you ever sat on a bench at the park or waiting for the bus or in any number of public places? Whether or not you speak to the people around you (or even actively observe them), you do tend to notice something about the way they are or what they are doing.
Maybe the boy sitting beside you is rolling a joint. Or that girl over there has on heels that are too high and a skirt that is too short. Did those two in the corner just exchange something under the guise of a handshake? And I wonder if that girl is old enough to be with the man she’s walking with!
Now you’ve seen it. You can’t unsee it. You can’t pretend that they’re not there and that it didn’t happen.
But do you take the time
to pass judgment?
His breath, like a whisper in my ear, speaks multitudes. His story spills as from a fresh wound and puddles on the floor before us. I dip my toes in to test the waters. A beautifully uncomfortable sensation overtakes me, and, for a moment, my breath catches in my throat. ..
There are those people that say, “No one has ever broken up with me.” You know the ones: Girls that are just that hot; boys that are just that wealthy. Then there are those unfortunately beautiful, tortured souls that have always been the ones left in the wake of relationship after relationship – the ones that are just so good and are incapable of hurting anyone.
Then there are the rest of us. Those of us whom have been both the heartbreaker as well as had our hearts broken. It’s normal throughout our lifetimes to hold onto people we’d be better off without as well as to lose those whom we should have clung onto.
I left my first boyfriend the day after I gave him my virginity. My second boyfriend left me because he wasn’t ready to give his to me. The first “love of my life” wasn’t able to give me anything because
our decades-wide age gap made it a felony …