My Dreary Day

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This is my life on Beaver Island, as illustrated by my seven year old grandson, Brandon.

There’s my little house, and car, the grape arbor (Brandon used to call it the “Gray Barber”) with a child inside, the big maple tree with two swings and two rope swings hanging from its branches…it’s all here.

In the background, then, you can see the Beaver Island ferry, filled with smiling and waving passengers. In the sky above is the Island airplane (note the shamrocks on the wings) also filled with grinning passengers.

It is being escorted in by an Army plane, that is dropping some pretty scary fire bombs all over the landscape. What?!

Well, perhaps to a seven year old boy, that element of dangerous excitement is the only thing this island is missing…so he put it in. A little bit of fiery wings on our island plane would make for a more thrilling ride, I guess.

Brandon is older now. Though he continues to amaze me with his artwork, this drawing perfectly suited my mood yesterday.

I woke up with a feeling of dread and depression that could neither be explained nor wished away. I had lots to do, and I kept plugging away at my list, but felt that I was fighting my way through thick sludge…waiting for the bombs to drop. I once heard depression described as a feeling of being covered with a heavy, wet wool blanket; that person knows depression. It covers you over…it is not a choice. There’s always the fear that it won’t go away.

Of course, I know all the things to do. Get out in the fresh air, get exercise. Don’t dwell on it. Keep working at everyday activities. Keep a list of accomplishments; keep marking things off the list as they are completed. Go easy.

So, I took long walks with the dogs, morning and evening. I spent several hours in fairly mindless but worthwhile activity in the garden, and several more hours in the studio. I did not vacuum the rugs, do my exercise video or write. I ate only leftovers. I went to bed early.

Today, the sun is shining here on Beaver Island. We got a rain shower overnight, and everything looks fresh. My clouds have lifted, too.

On to another day!

 

16 responses »

  1. Dreary indeed! I’m glad to hear your days have brightened outside and in your heart and mind. Lovely writing, and fabulous artwork by your grandson. Following you now, as I am enchanted by your life on Beaver Island.

  2. Perfect timing, Cindy, thank you so much!

    You continue to be an Inspirer living amongst Inspiration. “And that’s the truth.” Lily Tomlin

  3. Depression is hard. Even mild depression is hard. It’s hard to realize that these thoughts really aren’t who we are. Meditation has helped me when these thoughts and depressed feelings arise, to realize that it truly isn’t who I am. Blessings, my new island friend. And what a wonderful drawing.

    • You know, Kathy, you are exactly right. Whenever I’ve meditated – and, unfortunately, I’ve never found the discipline to do it on a regular basis – it has been very calming. Peace-inducing…as you said, it connects you to the person you really are. I will add it to my “arsenal”; thank you!

  4. Oh, Cindy — You said it so perfectly. I’ve been wondering to myself if I wanted to write a blog, or maybe just a facebook status, about trying to pull myself out of the soggy muck I feel like I’m mired in. Your heavy, wet wool blanket describes it perfectly. But thank God that new days still hold the power to pull us into the sun, even temporarily!

    • Oh, I hope so! I hate to think of you being depressed. I’ve dealt with it for so long – only off and on, thank God – in my own life, it feels kind of familiar…like an old, unwelcome uncle that brings misery whenever he visits. I can deal with it. Sometimes my to-do lists are pretty pathetic, though. When I start checking off things like “get dressed” or “floss” or “blink”, I know it was a really bad visit. I’m wishing for all sun-shiny days for you, Kate!

    • Yes, we all have to keep moving forward, don’t we? I love the picture, too, thanks. Brandon is a somewhat surly 16-year-old now, so memories of him at seven are especially precious! Thank you for reading, and for your kind words.

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