Slump

It's not just my posture. 

I've probably suffered from depression before, but this is the first time I've been officially "diagnosed."  I am so thankful to live in this humane country, where I can get paid sick leave, where I don't have to worry about being fired because I'm a tenured teacher. 

I haven't worked since September 20th.  I won't work until at least the beginning of November.  Not having to work -- despite the fact that I was eager to start my new job, enjoyed teaching, and felt I was effective -- has been a huge relief. 

I've held off writing about the depression here.  I don't like the label.  "You're depressed."  Fuck. 

It must be a sort of whiplash.   Or maybe it's a series of aftershocks.  In any case, part of me shut down.  It's not just the separation.  There was the trauma of my first year of student teaching.  I failed that year.  "Alison, you don't fit into the mold." 

Let's go back further.  I'll leave out the years of marriage.  Yet they are an integral part of me.  How can I leave them out? 

This is really hard to write.  I can't get into details.  So let me write a short history of a young woman full of hopes.

This young woman has ideas and goals, but perhaps lacks the drive to accomplish those goals.  She meets a handsome stranger.  In him, she finds adventure.  He's foreign, you see.  It's her last year of higher education.  She weighs the options and chooses to emigrate to his country.  They get married young.  They're in love, but there's the whole visa problem.  So they get married, and two months after their wedding, the young woman's mother dies suddenly.   

I got interrupted by the time -- it was time to put my children to bed.  When I got back to my little story, it seemed ridiculous.  Of course it is my story.  I moved here, lost my mom, had to adapt to this culture, had to find work, had a baby, had to find more work, had another baby, had to find more work.  I have nothing against working, but I hate the fact that I got into teaching the way I did.  Then I made a decision: job security over job freedom.  In the meantime, we bought a ruin of a house, fixed it up quick quick quick because my husband felt it necessary.  My desire for a third baby was met with resistance, and then flat-out refusal. 

After being upstairs, and thinking about what I was writing, I felt ashamed.  So many other people in this world are facing much bigger hurdles. 

In a previous entry I mentioned Wayne the Englishman.  He moved here with his wife and daughter in June.  We chat when we drop our children off at school.  Wayne has been through a separation.   He has offered words of comfort to me.  And in the past two weeks, he's had bad news from England:  His niece gave birth one day, and the next day was diagnosed with lung cancer.  His sister-in-law just had a total hysterectomy due to cancer as well.  This past weekend, his other sister-in-law was admitted to the hospital with heart problems.  Wayne had been feeling down because of his daughter's troubles adapting to the French school.  He now feels that Laura's worries are minor. 

So yes, I'm suffering.  But so are other people.  The events of the past twelve or so years have made me into who I am, and perhaps now it's all just come to a head.  Perhaps now I've reached the breaking point.  I thought the death of my mother was the ultimate event, the one I'd already dealt with, the one that meant I could handle anything. 

I've lost a partner, but I haven't lost him.  I have two beautiful kids.  I have very dear friends.  In other words, there is lots to be thankful for. 

Yet I am in a slump.  I'm trying to view it as a means to get to the next step in my life.  I hope I'm right about that part. 

Comments

[Denise]

Just remember that pain and suffering are all relative to the person and the time. Don't be so hard on yourself.

[J]

Hi. I have come here from another blog and I have to say that it has been kind of a balm to peer into your life with all of its funninesss, sadness, hope, frustration, and love. Plus, I love France, having lived there myself. I guess it's because I am in a slump, too, although for different reasons than you. Just want to say thanks for letting me be a voyeur and that from my perspective, you are still living a grand adventure and from what I've read, you have the strength and power to get through it and to find happiness again. :)

[BHD]

I learned something in November of 1994 that has made a difference in how I view the world. No one but me is going to live my life, and no one but me is going to die my death. No friend, no lover, can ever be close enough to do those things for me.

It's hard to watch suffering around me, but it's NOT me. Other people's troubles don't diminish the importance or pain of my own trials. In a very real way we are all our own little worlds. Perspective can ease our suffering somewhat, for sure. Attempting to see your own pain as frivolous will do nothing to ease your pain. It's real for you and for no one else.

Life isn't fair and there are no guarantees. Don't apologize for who you are or how you feel.

I admire how you face and acknowledge yourself, Alison.

[madame l.]

be kind to you.

[coldbear]

Comme BHD te l'a dit, tu es la seule à vivre ta vie.
Ta vie n'est ni insignifiante ni fade, car c'est ta vie. Tu es ta vie.
Alors fait exactement ce que je ne sais pas plus faire plus que toi, aime-toi.

LOVE AFTER LOVE

The time will come
when, with elation,
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror,
and each will smile at the other's welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.

-- Derek Walcott
(Poète indien, prix Nobel de littérature)