The Face of Depression

To say that I’m surprised how well yesterday’s post was received would be an understatement. My intention was nothing more than to enlighten all of you as to why I hadn’t been posting, and to remind you that if any of you are dealing with something similar it’s okay to take care of yourselves because you’re important. What I didn’t expect was that so many of you seem to understand exactly where I’m coming from, and several say that they just didn’t know how to put it into words. Depression is ugly, and the only way to explain to someone healthy how incapacitating it can be is to make sure they understand just how ugly it can get. I’ve had many…MANY…days, weeks, sometimes even months of ugliness, but none so great as after my best friend took her life. Without going into detail about the fits of rage and crying spells I experienced, drunken stupors, ways I contemplated taking my life so that those I felt who had ignored my cries for help would be startled when they found me, I’m simply going to post a day out of my life I wrote in my journal during one of those bleak periods. I posted this January 12th of this year right after I started my blog, to show that I had indeed made great strides compared to where I had been exactly one year to the day before. This is a repost. This was right out of my journal from January 12th, 2010. This is my way of telling all of you that you are not alone.

 

It’s January 12, 2010. I sit here with the heaviness of my life weighing upon me on yet another day, and get that sinking feeling of hopelessness as I know there is little, if anything, I can do to change the circumstances that bind me in this depression. Haven’t I tried? Have I? Or have I just talked about trying, never seeming to find a suitable way out? I suppose if anyone is reading this you know I found a way, and you know what it was. To date I know of no other beyond just giving up on this life that was never much of a life anyway.

I have no strength left. I am weak. I admit it. I question when this loss happened as I have always thought myself very strong. Given the circumstances I suppose it was inevitable. I am not unbreakable. I am not without feeling. I am in fact my own worst critic. A critic who doesn’t need those around who claim they love her to yet belittle her further. But as if self-punishment wasn’t enough, I have a fan base that picks up the beat when I slack on myself. People who say they love and support me, but whose love seems to come at a greater price than I am willing to pay.

Why is it that way? Why is it that there are those who offer their help, but then act angry after giving it as if you insisted they come to your aid? They throw it in your face, or worse yet act as if they are entitled to judge and advise you simply because you accepted the hand-up. Do they not realize that you are already feeling a failure for having to accept the hand-up in the first place? They lay yet more demands and guilt on you by putting you in a position by having to feel so grateful and obligated to them. I fear nothing is unconditional anymore.

I miss my Beth. I am disheartened that she was the only person I ever had in my life whose love for me was completely unconditional, and that now she is gone and I am alone. Hers was a friendship that spanned nearly three decades. Three decades of laughter and pain, children, divorces, ups and downs, and secrets. The latter we shared that I knew would never be repeated to another living soul. She was always there if I needed her, without judgment, without strings. The like of which I cannot even find within my own family. Hers was a forever love. Not a love that stopped when her heart did, but a love that was so strong it enables my heart to now beat for hers.

I now have to choose to live everyday. Not just what I will wear, or how I will spend my day, but also whether I want to continue inhabiting this body and life that seems to have given me so little. I force myself to get out of bed, to drink that first cup of coffee, and then make the decision that today is not the day to die. The rest it seems falls into place after. But even then I find myself merely going through the motions as if hanging out at the snack bar killing time while waiting for a train that will take me to my true destination. Never quite living; just breathing and taking up space. I suppose to others it seems as if all is well, because I am continuing to go through the motions of daily life, but even this is a façade. It’s easy to continue a routine long after your mind stops functioning. And I don’t know why it’s so hard to make that final decision just to let my mind, body, and soul go, given that there is no life to speak of. Perhaps it’s guilt at knowing that my children will have to live with the pain, as I have had to live with the pain of Beth’s suicide. Perhaps because there’s a wisp of hope left that I unconsciously haven’t been able to tap into that says my life isn’t finished and there’s more to be done. I don’t know. I only know that everyday I give myself a reason to get out of bed and drink that first cup.

Every significant relationship I’ve ever had, from being a wife to a friend, my life has always been the sideshow to someone else’s main attraction. My needs never important or interesting enough for anyone to take seriously or focus on, but merely give a passing glance to because I happen to be present. And I alone allowed it. I know that now. I allowed myself to be put in a position where I was never taken seriously. I allowed myself to always be the Barney Fife to someone’s Andy. More or less a joke, as I see it now. Like an anorexic dying from lack of nutrition right before everyone’s eyes, I too have been deteriorating from the inside out, but no one is looking because they are blinded by their own selfishness. What will it take for me to finally have a voice? I wonder. Will it come after my voice has long been quieted? When I am no longer around, will those who have turned a deaf ear to my cries suddenly take notice of what had been happening all along? Then I assume, and only then, will they whisper to one another that they should have seen the signs because they had been there all along. But of course, none of that will matter then, and to ease the guilt that they will be feeling they will pull out of their pockets crumbs of moments that they had tried to talk to me or help me out. None of which ever amounted to the slice of life that I so desperately needed to nourish me. I wonder then, who will ache the most? Who will actually step up and admit they hadn’t done enough? I doubt anyone that I have in my life at present. Could any of them face the horror that they had stood blindly by and watched my demise? I think not. I know I couldn’t admit that I hadn’t done enough if I were to watch someone slowly slip away and hadn’t done anything to stop them. I know that because I can’t admit it now.

Maybe that’s why I am where I am today, because of the guilt I feel over the loss of Beth’s life. I question myself daily whether I had failed to see signs that might have been there—or more importantly, weren’t. I battle with my conscience as to whether I should’ve done more. I had tried to reach her by email after my phone had been disconnected, but she didn’t respond. I’d assumed things were going well, she was simply too busy, and she would get back with me when time was more convenient. Shouldn’t I have known when several months passed by with no word that something was amiss? But the last time I had seen her all seemed well, and I didn’t want to trouble her with my problems. She seemed so happy that things were going well for me when my husband and I first purchased the house. She’d come in town for a weekend, I’d finally gotten the chance to introduce him to her, and she looked at him as if he were my Prince Charming and all the bad times, years of heartache, were finally behind me; all the years that she had to come to my aid.  She too, seemed genuinely happy in her marriage, and even commented how fortunate we both were to have finally found happiness. I hadn’t wanted to spoil that. Knowing her empathetic nature, how could I tell her that my life again was spinning out of control and ruin her happiness? Funny, but I guess she was feeling the same way; probably believing that things were going so good for me that she didn’t want to throw a wrench in it. So the two of us, it seems, while trying to protect the other, made grave mistakes at both of our expense. I, wanting to protect her, chose not to intrude upon her life, thinking that all was well. She, wanting to protect me, didn’t reach out to the one person who had always been able to comfort and save her from herself. I live with this knowledge now; beating myself up daily for not getting into my car and driving the seven hours to confront her as to why she hadn’t responded to my emails. I should’ve known something was amiss. I could’ve saved her.

I could have saved her. I could have saved her. That thought resonates in my mind daily and is always followed by, If only I had done this or that differently. Each new day that I begin with that first cup of coffee I choose to pour is a reminder that she no longer has the luxury of that choice. The reality haunts me, drives me to the brink of insanity some days, and leaves the taste of that coffee bitter like salt in my mouth, and twists in my insides. I am angry that I now have to make the choice to live, because of the thoughtless choice she made to die. Am angry that I can no longer just get up and breathe each day, taking the days events in stride and for granted like everyone else around me seems to do. Angrier yet, that I question everyone’s motives who say they love me, and expect so much more out of them since she’s passed. So angry I could scream that it takes so damn much out of me now just to love someone, anyone, especially myself. I am angry at everyone and everything; committed now it seems to finding answers that elude me in order that my mind might be at peace. These questions I have that are too numerous to mention, that I know have no logical answers. I struggle to accept that which I don’t understand, and wrestle constantly with how to allow her to be at peace in death, while trying to keep her alive in my life. The real irony, I guess, in that her death stole my life, and now I am dead inside.

I want to live again in spite of the unanswered questions. I want to be able to enjoy my life, knowing that is what she would want. I need to keep her memory alive in order to be able to do so, but others won’t let me. Whether it is that they have my best interest in mind, or simply don’t want to have to deal with it, they need me to be silent on the subject and will me to forget about her. Their ignorance at my need to talk about it keeps me sick. Unable to bring her up, sharing with them my pain and sadness, she remains trapped in the dark recesses of my mind, almost like a dirty secret that no one wants to talk about. Living with that is the hardest part of all. I need to talk. I need to tell everyone and anyone that will listen how amazing she was and what an impact her life and death had on my life. In hiding her memory and all the things she meant to me, I might as well die. I can only vaguely recall a time before she wasn’t in my life, and to not acknowledge her now is to say that I too no longer exist; that thirty years of my life never happened. But it had, and she was a large part of it. How do they expect me to honor her memory if they want me to forget? And I live to honor it. I wonder every day if this gift for words that she always believed God had given me, could be used somehow to honor her. But in order for it to do so I would have to put words to paper. Unfortunately, these words that fall so freely from my lips and mind, I don’t believe anyone would care to hear or read. I don’t believe in myself. Perhaps the greatest irony of all, is that the one person that could build my confidence enough to complete this task if she were here, is the one person that is now gone that I wish to do the task for. I fear all these thoughts will forever be trapped in my mind because of this.

I was in a terrible place when I wrote that entry in my personal journal 18 months ago. I didn’t want to live; I couldn’t bring myself to take my own life, and existed like a ghost for many months. This particular lengthy bout with depression had a trigger: The suicide of my lifelong best friend. Many bouts have not. The clinically depressed don’t need triggers to set them off. In fact, it’s safer to assume that we are depressed most of the time, and any triggers we have are ones that occasionally make us happy. Sadly, that seems to be the case for me anyway. I finally had to accept that not everyone was going to understand this pain, and because they couldn’t weren’t going to take it seriously. I chose to blog because I was tired of living alone with it. I had no idea, however, that I would be in such good company, and that there would be so many of you out there living alone with it too. Well, we’re no longer alone. We now have each other. 

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16 Comments on “The Face of Depression”

  1. Spectra says:

    I am with you, Girl! I got your back! And it seems, through your blog, and our many internet/blogging interconnections, we are all very gently, carefully, extending ether hands of silent smoke, nonetheless supportive over the blogosphere, very real to me, and it seems, to you. We are all getting to know our own deeper truths here. That counts for something! It does. It just has to.

    I am glad you have Pandora Patty! I just had a fine friend accompany me to court tonight…the only issue, or problem, was how long it took me to ask a friend to come stand by my side. She was clearly interested and supportive. I have a problem with the idea of burdening people. But I asked, she came, she stood with me in the prosecutors office. She helped me sort things out (she works for a major Philadelphia Law firm) and anyway, my case was dismissed. The most important thing was, I realized I was weak and frightened from the stress, and asked a friend to come stand by me. I never do that. How else do you really make a solid friend? I can only imagine Pandora Patty fills this sort of need in you. We all need that kind of a friend. Someone we don’t want to burden, but must!

    • Oh Spectra, you just described my biggest problem in a nutshell. One that Pandora Patty has gotten onto me about for years. I absolutely hate asking anyone for anything! I absolutely hate accepting a hand-out or hand-up when offered. She had to pull teeth to get me to accept a round trip airline ticket to see her two years ago, although we both knew I needed to get out of here desperately and be around her for a while. It took all the courage I could muster to swallow this damn pride of mine and accept that ticket. Ask her, she’ll tell ya…I’m terrible with it. But you know when you’re able to it really does mean that you’re healing in some ways. It means that you trust another person enough to know they’re not going to use that gift of kindness against you. And for people like us–remember we’ve talked at length about others throwing their kindness back in your face–once you’ve been hurt that way by others who claimed they loved you too, it’s hard to let down your guard for anyone. I MEAN ANYONE! I’d just as soon suffer, suck-it-up, and fall on my face before I ask for anything anymore…and unfortunately do suffer because of it. Still…I got my mother fucking pride!
      I can’t speak for everyone else, but I have to tell you from what I’m witnessing I see all of us that are brave enough to break through the fear of our inadequacies by being honest making great strides. I know I’m becoming a different person. And I know I see a lot more confidence in most of you. I’d say we’re pretty friggen good for one another!

  2. The Hook says:

    Nicely written post. I appreciate the fact you’re brave enough to share your life (with all it’s ebbs and flows) with all of us.
    Thank you.

  3. Oh Lou these last two posts have been (searching for the right word) well, timely. On a very selfish and personal level I mean. I too have felt the claw of those dark feelings just these last couple of weeks which had followed a much more upbeat time for me. It’s like a chasm opens and I feel myself being sucked towards it. When that happens I feel a real raw despair because I’m thinking to myself that I had cracked it and made it go away forever and then when I feel it again I am crushed. With my own experience I feel like I have tried everything and I mean everything the so called ‘experts’ say – the medical profession (the MOSTEST crap), drugs (completely crap), exercise (crap), nutrition (probably the most crap) making myself reach out of my comfort zone in terms of keeping in touch with people (temporarily less crap with an emphasis on the temporarily). I truly believe it is an on-going correction of our thoughts about ourselves and our lives with a major emphasis on the ON GOING. It is the only thing that seems to bring any sort of relief i.e. when I take the time (on my own) to go inside my thoughts and then write it out through blogging or whatever. I need to read books that question my thinking and offer new perspectives. Also I need to monitor (dreadful word) what I listen to on a daily basis like news etc and even the music I listen to. I’m better now at switching off the TV and my own thought train but it is a constant process. I guess we all find something that works a little.
    Your descriptions about how you feel about the loss of your friend touch me so much because they echo the loss I feel of my partner (and she is very much alive and well) which to people who don’t understand would say is just ridiculous 😦 I know it is not. I believe it means I too am still moving through a period of mourning coupled with feelings of deepest black depression. Lord, it you weren’t depressed before you started reading this comment…
    Anyhow I just want to say that when I was feeling that pull again just yesterday what did I want to do? Read your blog. Not joking. Honesty is so graceful i think and you have it in buckets. Thank you, thank you for writing like you do.

    • I wrote a post in February of this year titled Love and Loyalty. You find it and read it. You’ll see that I know EXACTLY what you’re talking about with your ex. You can mourn over a lost love the same way you grieve over a death. Sometimes I think it’s worse because you know they are still around, know they are with another, but most important…know they aren’t with you. The knowing and not being able to get closure is what ‘kills’ you inside. Don’t beat yourself up over feeling that way. You have a valid reason for your emotions. Love is very powerful and can consume you. Also don’t let anyone make you think that there’s some ‘time-limit’ on how long you should grieve over this relationship. Only you know the depth that it ran, and when you can move on.
      I agree it’s the moving on that keeps us going. When depression creeps in the only way to move away from it, is to well…move. We have to keep our minds a step ahead of it, for if we don’t and it gets it’s grip on us we’re done for. I have to wonder with so many people finding themselves down in the dumps or under the weather here lately, if perhaps it doesn’t have something to do with the time of the season. Perhaps it’s nothing more than us sitting here and looking at the fact summer is nearly over, and we haven’t accomplished what we wanted to, or used our time wisely while we had the opportunity to get out. I know that happens to me when I don’t take an opportunity presented to me. I know part of the reason I’m depressed is that there were so many things I wanted to do with this house this summer while I could, and my husband has vetoed everything. I try to tell him that I’m giving up because nothing gets done, but apparently he’s not listening.
      I hope you’re feeling better, Hon. I know just sharing my feelings and getting feedback has helped me tremendously. My prayers are with ya, Babe!

  4. Ed Williams says:

    Lou…
    My partner Daryl (my Peppah) and I have been going through some self-imposed changes recently. We’ve been a young partnership for close to seven years now and while he felt that we had a great thing going and was quite satisfied with our relationship as it stood, I was feeling that while we were “okay,” that perhaps we needed to begin to take steps to push our relationship further… perhaps bring on some more depth, commitment and to make sure we’re on the same page for what lies ahead in our future together.
    I think the reason I’m bringing this up is that I too have always been living with clinical depression and my frustration with feeling “stuck” at this point in my life facilitated me to attempt to get “salt n’ Peppah” to move forward into a healthier, full, and more rewarding relationship. We have begun some “low level” but highly effective couples counseling to help us come up with plans and tools to get us hopefully started in the right direction.
    What the fuck does this have to do with Pissy?
    One of the things that we have begun doing on a weekly basis is setting aside an evening to share pieces of poetry, music, writing or even a current event that has touched us as individuals so we can discuss, feel, learn more about each other as human beings so that we can develop a greater understanding of our relationship together.
    Okay Ed… SERIOUSLY… how does that fit in with Pissy dammit!
    I’m GETTING there! Stop being so damn impatient Pissy. Just shut up and listen!
    My emotions have crept once again to just under the surface of my skin recently. This happens when I get into my state of depression. I mean, at first, I literally withdrawal and temporarily “die inside” to where I cannot think, focus, or care about anything other than that first sip of coffee and how many times I have to pee afterwards. I’ll be sitting on the couch staring at a TV show about some Hollywood child star tragedy when a commercial for cat food that looks like cavier will come on and I’ll end up bawling my eyes out.
    Once the raw emotion breaks the skin, I cry a little, find some self perspective and come out of my hell better, more whole, and with a continued level of comfort knowing that I AM a valuable person and that this depression is very much a part of who I am and always will be. I’ve paraphrased obviously, but it depresses me to take more about depression. ; )
    FINALLY… Pissy’s role in all this:
    Your post on the “Face of Depression” from 18 months ago about the suicide of Beth and your lifetime relationship with her… moved me. Not sure if you heard me Lou… MOOOOVED me. I chose to read it to Daryl last evening after dinner through a stream of tears. I had to stop no less than six times to regain my composure to continue. I wanted to share a few things (through your words) with him about how depression really feels, how relationships can and can’t work and of course how WELL YOU WRITE and CONNECT on so many levels.
    AGAIN Ed… your point?
    Lou… I wish I knew of a way to get you to take your thoughts, hopes, dreams, failures, and sarcastic wit to places far beyond your blog. Your words are way too valuable to just SIT in PissyKittysLitterBox. Can you link your stories to other sites that deal with depression? Not only are your thoughts healing for those WITH the disease, but I can imagine those with families would benefit greatly from your words.
    Thanks for allowing me to share. Thanks for just being who you are. You’re a gift. : )

    • Ed, it’s taken me 24 hours to answer this. When I read it, well…I literally fell apart and was inconsolable. I’m a very honest person and put a lot of emphasis on how words are used, so when I use the word ‘inconsolable’ I want you to take it exactly as it sounds. I could not stop crying. It opened a well of emotions in me that just came spilling forth. I won’t go any further into that here. I am dedicating my post today to you, and you’ll find out why when you read it.
      I agree that it’s important to always keep a relationship moving forward, because from personal experience I know if you don’t it dies. I’m on husband number 3, which means there was once a 1 and 2. And I might mention a few fiances thrown in there just to make things interesting (Yeah, I’m a pretty woman so getting em ain’t never been the hard part…unfortunately!). Our relationships ended because I believe among other things they just became to lazy to care about it anymore. They thought the hard part–getting me–was over, and that was all they needed to do. But another aspect of depression is that because we’re always so unhappy with ourselves, we’re constantly pushing ourselves, and want things to be better. If we feel things are ‘stuck’ we get even more depressed, begin to give up, and eventually move on. If that never happens we tend to remain in a perpetual state of emptiness. People that are clinically depressed have to constantly evolve. It keeps us one step ahead of the depression. People we are with have to evolve with us. It’s all a part of the baggage we carry. Love us, accept the baggage. I’m so glad that Daryl is willing to take these steps with you. I wish mine were. It sounds like your relationship is headed in the right direction. You just sound like such a wonderful man. You sure you don’t wanna switch sides? Ha..ha..
      And about crying over cat food commercials….OMG…that sounds soooo much like me. I think it’s because I’m a master at swallowing shit in my life and putting up with stuff, but then there comes that moment when all of it begins to become too much again, wants to ‘break the surface’–as you so appropriately described–and I find myself crying uncontrollably over things I read in the online paper, watch on the news, commercials that involve happy relationships, etc… I mean you name it, I’m going to cry over it. My husband and son think I’m nuts. It’s just all part of this hysterical, maddening dance that we’re forced to participate in. Tell Daryl that it’s completely normal, when you’re not normal. hee..hee..
      Well, before this becomes manuscript long I should close. I just want to say “Thank you!”. What you said touched me more than you can possible know.

  5. So with you here. Particularly about the difficulties of acknowledging self worth. And yet, if I don’t value myself (and I don’t) how hypocritical is it to expect other people to do so.

    In my experience suicide isn’t about wanting to die; it is not seeing any other way to make the pain stop. And yes, other people can help, but the hardest work is the bit we have to do ourselves.
    Thank you for this repost. It is beautiful, searing, honest and touches so many of us. A surprising number of us in the blogosphere have been there, or someplace very similar. And fight daily not to go back there. I know I do. And I also know how often I fail.

    • I don’t think one could consider that being hypocritical. I think for many of us it’s much easier for us to love others than we do ourselves, and wish only the best for them and hope they don’t stumble as we do. I know most of my life I haven’t valued myself and have allowed myself to be used and trodden on by others because of it, but when it comes to friends or family I’ll be the first person to stand up against adversity for them. I’ll bet most of you would be willing or have done the same.
      And you’re right, suicide is not about wanting to die, but the end result is the same…your life is still over. I happen to think as shitty as it may be there is always a life-preserver somewhere if we but look. A couple of years ago I couldn’t say that. Today I can. If I had ended my life like I’d wanted I never would’ve experienced the things I have since and met all of you. My life…our lives….have purpose. If for no other reason than to give each other support and oil the machine. In the midst of all of us there is going to be one that really needs to hear our words and these words may make the difference between them being here today and tomorrow. Never forget that. There’s a reason you have the gift for writing you do, and another that you have a story to tell.

  6. Spectra says:

    Once again, beautifully and intelligently phrased. I am especially moved by the thought of turning things around here, of looking at depression as a perpetual state, and realizing that maybe there are only happiness triggers…

    I, personally, seek out my happiness triggers, I pursue the ideas and passions that will form a loop, with the hope that these pursuits will cycle on their own and feed me with more positive attentions, my own positive attentions to what will bring in the satisfactions. It is not an exact science. I am glad I have this habit, but it is also only an effort to block out the negatives and fears that seem to have free reign inside my head.

    I am sorry you lost such an important influence and confidante in your life. But I see also, how you are still in your own pursuit here, blogging, writing, to continue finding your way through. Through to some real light in life, a real sense of breathing freely. Of solid contentment.

    • Pandora Patty says:

      Lulu — You sent me this in 2007. It shows how far you’ve come in dealing with your depression. I hope you don’t mind that I’m sharing it with others who care about you.
      I love you!! PP
      THE EPITAPH

      “I Loved Everyone, But Myself” is what the final words will say,
      when the last shovel of dirt is thrown, and my soul’s light years away.

      This soul that once resided in a body, lean and strong,
      will have then worn out it’s welcome, as the days grew much too long.

      Too long, for someone who’d wondered what the world was all about,
      who strived to reach potential, but felt trapped within self-doubt.

      Who needed the adventure to give her idle spirit wings,
      whose puppet arms reached desperately, not knowing others pulled the strings.

      This Spirit, once filled with promise, this Mind, once thought of as so bright,
      this Heart, that loved so many, these gifts will vanish in the night.

      The shell that will remain then, that lay rotting in decay,
      will be just a brief reminder of this girl that lost her way.

      And the epitaph will read, “I Loved Everyone, But Myself”
      On a stone that bears my name, but gives no detail of my wealth.

      Few will stop to gaze at the place where I’ll be lain,
      Like the totality of my life the stone will be quite plain.

      They’ll simply pass right by it not knowing I was rich indeed,
      not by monetary gain, but by the planting of love’s seed.

      And the garden that I planted in my family and my friends,
      are the memories that they’ll tend to, ensuring my life will never end.

      Sadly, my only true regret of the memory that leave,
      Is them knowing I never loved myself, the way I loved others, and they loved me.

      And you my friend I cherish, above others you’re set apart,
      For you hold the magical key of understanding me; the one who knows my heart.

      Give yourself a hug today.
      Whisper the words, “I’m worth it!”
      You yourself, are the best friend you will ever have or need. Everyone else is merely a compliment to what you already own; your power.
      You don’t ever need anyone else to tell you you’re a beautiful person.
      (If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around, does it still make a sound?)
      Yes, it does Patty. My wish for you is that you make a great sound!

      • Hi Hon! Before you worry, I’m doing better. I’m just venting out the remaining fumes from the fire of despair that’s been burning.
        Goodness, you still have that poem? I figured it would’ve wound up in paper hell somewhere. Yep, I was in a pretty desperate state back then, wasn’t I? You know the funny thing is, I haven’t put any of my poetry on this site. Odd, huh? Well, perhaps someone that reads it might get something out of it, so that’s okay. Who knows, maybe I’ll use it as a post myself soon. God knows I’ve been slacking off big time on blogging.
        I love you girl! Who luvs you more than Lulu?!!!

        • Pandora Patty says:

          Nobody loves me the way you do , Lulu!
          I’m thinking that the best way you seem to pull out of feeling the way you do is to focus on helping others. Even when you’re in the depths of despair, you always pull yourself out and think about someone else when you feel needed. I just want you to know that I appreciate YOUR uncondiitional love, even with everything you go through yourself. It has been what keeps me going. Please, don’t underestimate your worth. It has been invaluable to those you love, and we who love you.
          You all are privileged to get to know this very special woman.

          • Ahhh…that means the world to me. Although I figure you gotta say those things because you’re my best friend. Isn’t that like a rule or something? Ha..ha..
            It’s not that I don’t appreciate it when you tell me I’m valuable, but I admit, it doesn’t have the impact on me that a stranger would, because I figure you’re partial cause you love me. That, and I tend to downplay compliments and am not receptive to them (You know, the whole lack of self-worth, shit). I must be getting better though, because I read an email yesterday from Ed and the words he used broke through, because I broke down. I nearly called you at work to share it with you. I couldn’t stop crying. Perhaps I’m finally getting to the point I’m able to open up and accept good things. I hope so. Anyway, you’ve been on this long journey with me for some time, and have helped pave the way for better things….so thank ya, thank ya, thank ya, for loving me in spite of this annoying depression I battle. I know it ain’t always ham and jam for you, Babe! Still, the perk is no one luvs ya like I do! 😉

    • You have such a way with words Spectra. I don’t think you realize how deep you come across when you have something profound to say. I think there’s a whole lot more to you than you let on, girlfriend. 😉
      I did lose someone incredibly important, but I sometimes fail to mention that I was blessed enough to gain someone equally important before I did. Had I not had Pandora Patty already in my life when Beth passed away, there would be no Lou, no blog, none of the friendships that I’ve made. She single-handedly saved me from myself on more occasions than I can count. I am truly fortunate that I’m able to say I have experienced two unconditional friendships in my life. I also believe I’m pretty damn fortunate to have found all of you. Today I am doing much better because all of you shared my pain, some made me laugh, and all have given me a reason to continue sharing my thoughts. Thanks for being my buddy girl!