Depression, the killer of lost souls. Have you ever felt so lost, so alone in a crowded room that you begin to question the reasons. The reason we are here, the reason we feel so deeply, the reason people see the world in so many different ways. Why am I here, why do I live while others die, why I am dealing with this damn disease? The answer is very simple and not very popular: why not? As for the reason . . . who said reason was a part of living. Reasons are the excuses we give ourselves so we can do what we want while still feeling sanctimonious. Don’t kid yourself. Mankind is a predator. We take what we want and make excuses, laws, beliefs to accommodate the moment. The questions of faith would best be left to saints and madmen, madwomen, mad people, oh whatever! Each one of us has moments of madness and saintliness. The trick is knowing the difference.
I was recently asked how I deal with depression. Why is it always assumed that we must be depressed if things aren’t perfect? Just because I am dealing with a disease that has robbed me of the ability to walk, for which there is no cure, that limits my independence, why must I be depressed? Hum-mm. When you put it that way, maybe I should be. But I’m not. Oh don’t get me wrong, I do have days when I feel really crummy, when I am a wee bit depressed but I am not dealing with DEPRESSION. I have enough to deal with why would I complicate it with depression? Having MS has taught me tolerance, it has taught me patience (still a work in progress) and it has taught me to ‘deal with it and move on’. Every single person has something, some hurdle they have to contend with – fear of heights, fear of flying, allergies, migraines, the list goes on. Mine is perhaps more frightening, more high profile. But my personal hurdle is no more difficult than another person’s. Because whatever you are dealing with is always worse when it is yours.
Butterfly Sand 