Letters from Virginia
Some days it can hit you completely out of the blue. There is no apparent reason for it, today is no different from yesterday but you feel it; the black cloud hovering above you, the threat of a storm. I slowly open my eyes and flinch at the glorious sunshine bursting through a gap in the curtains. It catches the dust floating in the air, thousands of tiny specks lighting up the room. I suddenly become very aware of my breathing, the dust filling my lungs with each breath.
‘Mummy, mummy, it’s in the morning!’ Gracie shouts as she jumps and thumps trying to wake me. Her joy is overflowing at the prospect of another day. Oh to have that wonder, that enthusiasm for life. To be filled with so much energy and vitality. When do we lose it? At which point do we start to feel more tired upon waking than when we went to bed. When do our days begin with aching joints and tight muscles? Is it the loss of Father Christmas, the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny that seals our fate? Does the reality of life take away our childhood wonder and excitement?
Gracie jumps on me again and I feel her warm hands cling to me for a cuddle. ‘I love you mummy.’ a big kiss landing on my cheek. I smile in spite of myself. So precious, so wonderful and then she is gone and rushing off to find her father. I feel the guilt flow over me as I wonder how I can feel so miserable when I am surrounded by such love. The black cloud is still hovering above my head. Tears sting my eyes and I bury myself under the duvet. ‘Five more minutes’ I tell myself and try to find the cheerful thoughts at the back of my head.
Eventually I drag my tired body out of bed. Stiff muscles fight against the movement but I try and stretch the pain away; my head heavy as I bend to touch my toes. Rubbing my lower back I walk into the bathroom resisting the urge to go back to bed and hide from the day. A surge of morning activity carries me through. With the routine of breakfast, dressing and the gathering of school bags I can work on automatic pilot. The body seems to carry itself along without too much help from the mind.
Before long I am alone though, alone with my black cloud. I stand for a few minutes feeling slightly lost and bewildered. I shake my head in an effort to bring myself back and start to tidy the breakfast things away. As always I am gripped by the sense of being slightly behind, always trying to catch up; chugging along like some old steam engine trying to reach the top of a never-ending hill. With a sense of déjà vu I begin washing the dishes. Eventually I sit down at the computer with a cup of tea. ‘I must get some work done!’ I tell myself, all the while I’m aware of the time slipping away. So much to do and soon it will be time to collect Gracie from school. The blank screen stares back at me, taunting me with the crisp whiteness, the cursor winking its invitation. I sit and stare and sit and stare. Nothing comes, just the weight of the back cloud bearing down on me.
Abruptly I turn away from the screen, dizziness hits me and I feel the air heavy in my lungs. Outside the sun shines and I walk out into the garden. It is hard to see. Within the anxiety my world becomes smaller, blurred around the edges. The brightness of the sun is subdued as though a filter has been placed in front of it. The flowers in my garden, chosen for their bright colours and rich scent appear less dazzling. Everything is muted and shrouded in grey. Tears find my eyes again and I stumble back into the house.
I sit and allow myself to cry. Maybe it will help; maybe it will exorcize the demons in my head, voices of misery, pain and self doubt. Guilt engulfs me again; why should I feel such misery? I have been blessed with so many wonderful things. Even with my depression I belittle myself; make it unimportant. ‘Oh I suffer from a little depression. Yes I feel a bit blue sometimes. It comes and goes; nothing too bad. It’s not as though I can’t get out of bed in the morning!’ Always playing it down, never allowing myself to admit that it’s important, that I’m important. The truth is at times it can be crippling. It can make the simplest things a constant struggle. It is of course self destructive. I beat myself up about these feeling that I just can’t control. ‘Pull yourself together girl!’ ‘JUST STOP!’
I pick up a book I’ve been reading of Virginia’s letters. I’m curious about her and her demons. When Upon finding the book in the library I wondered if it could give me some clues. So many people are tormented by their own thoughts. Some manage to survive and carry on regardless; others disappear into the madness within. I flick through and read at random. Is the secret within? How can we avoid the sad, lonely end that she experienced? When is death the only option? I ponder the occupation of writing. Can it be good to delve too deeply into your own mind if you suffer from depression? Goodness knows what you might find there in the darkest depths. Then again maybe it can be an ideal way to transfer those demons onto paper.
My neck and shoulders are sore, my stomach churns. I wonder how long my black cloud will be with me this time. My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the telephone ringing. ‘Vanessa my darling, how are you? Is this a good time? I hate to interrupt you when you’re working; I just thought I’d phone for a quick chat.’ I smile and sit back in my chair. ‘Hi mum, I’m fine thanks, a chat would be lovely. How are things?’ I begin to relax as I listen to the familiar, comforting voice at the end of the line. Slowly I feel my black cloud lifting. I look out of the window and admire the rainbow of colours that fill my garden. Today at least is going to be OK after all.
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10 Comments
Did you know Winston Churchill suffered like this too, and referred to it not as a black cloud, but he used to say he had his black dog with him.....?
On a have-you-tried-this note, did you ever hear of 'NAME 5?'
When you are next out shopping somewhere suitable, pop into a gifty type shop or fancy stationers and look at their pretty journals. Not the big ones you write in - the small ones, about six inches by four (mockingbird shows her age....again!) It must be attractive to you - flowers, patterns abstract whatever...
When you get home and have a moment to yourself, preferably at the end of the day, sit down with it. Be comfortable. Have a drink if you like by your side. Write the date on the first page. Or maybe leave the first page blank, turn it over and date the second page instead. Will explain that bit. If you write on the first page and later look back and see what you wrote and dont like it you will put the book away. The blank page gives your brain time to prepare yourself when you go back to read stuff.....
So you have dated the first/second page. Good. Now think. About the day you had. And your challenge is to name five things in the day that you liked/went ok/survived..... Somedays it may be as bad as saying The day is over. The bath was hot. Its bed time. The curtains are drawn. I am alone.
But on others...... you may find it really hard to only choose five. And you may want to record so much detail for the five that you actually need more than a piece of a page for the entry...
And the beauty of this method is it builds a bank of your survival. Of things that are important to you. And day by day that list can grow.... And when you need it, its there ready and waiting for you.
Your writing was emotive, it is real, it tells a story and reminds us that each day brings hope....
Your writing was easy to follow and I enjoyed reading the piece. The only problem was that I related to it TOO much. When I read, I like to escape into a different world...a world different to mine. It does not mean I did not enjoy it, just that I would not choose this type of book normally.
What really freaked me out was that you used my real name...Vanessa...how did you know? You got into my brain...lol...
Anyway, have fun writing...it's escapism at it's best...it's kept me sane for the past year and a half. Best therapy in the world...:)
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