because i can’t even speak

At the remembrance garden in Dublin

Image via Wikipedia

when someone you love is hurting you hurt double because you are sad and depressed and of no help and that makes it worse. so together you are alone.  pumpkin bread is baking in the oven but the smells of nutmeg, ginger and cinnamon don’t even reach my senses. i don’t know if i should allow myself a really good cry (why do they call it “good?”) or keep sucking in the stress like a dyson vacuum cleaner going over the carpet where my sweet, shaggy dog sleeps. even her warm brown dog eyes look sad.

i wish i didn’t cling to the last hope, the last ember in the fire amongst the dying coals. outwardly i am pessimistic but hidden deep inside me is a wisp of a wish, no stronger than a single blade of grass in a summer breeze. yet still i hope for a miracle and he does too, even though we say all hope is gone and it’s really, really bad. and it is.

i am numb and trembling, silent and screaming, shaking and still. my worried face is too obvious to the world; i wish i could hide my feelings and be like that mean francine who i hated but she could pull off  a fake happy face in half a second.  my feelings show on my face even if i try to fake it and then i crumple like a paper ball tossed into the trash. i don’t call my mother tonight even though i call her every day because i don’t want her to worry and i know that’s what mothers do. my silence, even for a day, signals my message to her.

i need to hold myself together so i don’t break down in front of my children; no matter how old they are they still don’t like to see their mama cry. and i wouldn’t just be crying, i would be sobbing and crumpling in the fetal position and rocking, rocking, rocking. if the situation in a situational depression continues and continues when does it just become depression. i may have crossed over into that, maybe he has too. i want to support him  but i don’t know how to do it anymore. i am failing the one i love the most because i can’t bear to see his flat, deflated face. he lacks affect and looks gray and defeated, worn, sad. we are mirror images of each other.

there’s certainly nothing to look forward to, not that there has been in a while. yes, i do count my blessings and yes i am grateful but i am feeling less lucky and more like a victim with a really long run.  we are not alone in our misery many people share this sadness but who would feel better because of that? it just makes things worse.

the beep beep beep of the timer goes off and i stick toothpicks in the pumpkin bread and burn my finger. the pain feels good, it feels like something, instead of this numb, internal despondency.  this is what depression looks like, it feels like everything and nothing, it lingers inside me, on and on like an unwelcome guest you can’t ask to leave.

7 thoughts on “because i can’t even speak

  1. Your post touched close to home with me. Depression is a scary place. I seem to return down the slippery slope all too often. especially as of late. I’m so sorry that you and your husband are suffering through such hard times right now, but hang on to one another and to the hope of brighter days. It is good that you’re writing about how you’re feeling. I agree with Phylor, though, consider counseling and possibly antidepressants. Sometimes we need help getting through these difficult times, and that’s okay. I’ll be keeping you and your husband in my thoughts and prayers. Blessings.


    • oh how sweet of you. it was a horrible, depressing week and while the situation remains the same we both feel better and are supporting each other. I don’t want you to worry, writing is MY therapy. THANK YOU for your concern. I wish you the best. stay in touch. I’m here to listen too.



  2. Please do not turn your back on hope.

    Even though it is seems dark all around you, hope is still there. It is like a seed, underground, under the snow. When the seasons change and the time is right, it will sprout and grow and bloom.

    Believe that the seasons will change. Believe that it will one day grow.

    To help it along, perhaps it just waiting for you to water it with your tears.


  3. I know exactly the feeling in my own heart…. I’ve not been hanging in so well as of late, and I am so sorry I haven’t been here for you… I am barely getting through my days it seems.
    You can give yourself permission to let it out you know… It is the one thing that I can say to others, but find hard doing myself…
    Love you girlfriend.. Life blows sometimes, but the saving grace is that you aren’t alone in it… we are here…


  4. Oh Laurie. I’m so sorry. Sorry you’re feeling this way, sorry I wasn’t here for you earlier tonite on IM. I know where you’re at mentally. I’ve been there….for all the same reasons….I’m still there too. I’ve spent this evening bawling, sobbing, in the fetal position…with my dogs looking at me as if I were a loud alien dropped here on their big bed. I wish I could fix your predicament. I wish I could fix mine. I wish I could heal everyone in our position. When pain is such a big part of your life…then you add something awful like longterm unemployment or another crisis in the family…it is just too much to handle.

    Go ahead and cry. Sob. Do it when the kids are at school. Get it out. Or you’ll choke on it. I remember when Jim was laid off and we were losing everything, I could see him being defeated….and he was my rock…I needed to lean on him…and then he needed to lean on me and I felt I wans’t strong enough due to the damn pain and illness…and we about both lost it. But we made it…kind of….we’re alive. We have a rental roof over our head. Life blows, but it’s life….so I’m trying to have gratitude for it, but it sure is hard most of the time….little things keep me going…when people are unexpectedly nice to me for example…that keeps me going.

    You will make it. Things will improve…..they WILL! I know it. I’m here for you….even if I gimp away from FB for a minute and miss u…I’m here! Hang in there….Hang onto each other. xoxoxox


  5. Choose another path. Don’t go there, my friend. I’ve been down that path one too many times and all it leads to is isolation, emptiness and despair. The bright spot in all of this is that you’re writing about what’s happening–that’s your way of reaching out. So, take my hand…please, and I’ll help lead you to a place where the honey runs in the rivers each day. Hold on, my sweet, sensitive soul.


  6. I can’t hit “like” this post as it seems inappropriate. I know how you feel (and that’s not a platitude, it’s a been there and and wish I was done with that), and understand your landscape of bleakness. Wish I had a magic wand or special powder that could wave/sprinkle away all your sorrows and fears. It is hard when two people who have shared so much are sharing depression (know that one all too well, too).
    By the simple act of making pumpkin bread, you are in a way coping — even if it doesn’t feel like it.
    Maybe it’s time for counselling or antidepressants (and I don’t suggest these lightly). Neither will solve what has withered your hopes and dreams, and spread blackness and emptiness into your life, but it might help you to cope with the situation; give you another source of guidance and support; give you tools to help with your and your husband’s depression.
    Just a suggestion — situational depression is a hole that you spiral into and it can be as deep and wide as the one created by clinical depression. Chronic illness also brings with it the shadow of depression, the darkness in the corners, the anxieties and emptiness.
    Sending you (((((hugs))))) and some extra strength to help you get through the holidays. I know what it’s like to be surrounded by two concentric circles: the inner circle of your despair, and then wider circle of friends and family. The brightness of the larger circle can be blinding when you are living in a dark world.
    Check your email: I’m sending you a message as well.


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