Hard to See

A hand full of people can see it in my face or hear it in my voice, but for the most part it is invisible.

Holidays are a hard time to hide it. I try, but at a gathering you will usually find me silent in the same
spot I sat or stood in since I came through the door. When I try to add to conversations my voice is
not heard, when I walk toward the middle of the action, I am not seen. My small steps become big failures and I retreat, 

I am alone, but not by choice. It's similar to the scene in the movie where someone is at the end of the corridor and the hallway grows longer and longer. If I made it to the end and opened the door I would surely fall into oblivion. This thought gives me comfort. 

People that don't suffer from depression don't understand it. They think it's weird, and it is. It overwhelms me sometimes unexpectedly. Even if I know what brings it on it doesn't mean I can control it.

Next time you see someone sitting alone or silent take two seconds to acknowledge them. So they don't start believing they are invisible. 

Feeling invisible is a side effect of depression. If you don't exist, you cannot be loved or appreciated, heard or validated. You feel as if you don't belong, you are not necessary. 

A simple look, smile, wink, touch, or word can make a difference.

Feeling unnecessary leads to hopelessness and despair.

I will be here when you are ready.

Taking Off

It couldn't have been easy for my mother, raising an eleven year old and a fourteen year old alone after her husband died, but she did the best she could. It was the sixties and she was just a mere forty herself. What I remember was a lot of yelling, until one night she literally kicked him out. At the time I was just happy to finally have my own room and not have to share it with my mom.

For years I never gave any weight to the situation, I just dusted myself off and put on a happy face despite my needs for guidance and attention. Looking back now as an adult to the me as a child, I can see the struggle and the pain clearly. There have been many aftershocks.

After losing my father at eleven and my brother at fourteen, you might say I floundered a bit. My mom was constantly out dating, while I was alone with my headphones and alcohol. I was clearly lost. I had relationships with boys, then I had relationships with men. I'm sure any shrink would say I was just in search of my father, or mother, or brother for that matter.

When my mothers brain tumor was diagnosed as terminal, I brought her to my home, and helped her die. That brought my brother and I back together, I was hopeful, but it was brief.

My brothers wife died six months ago. He is lonely and lost, so of course I have opened my home to him. He has been here for only one week.

People have commented on how generous I am, how wonderful it is that I have done this. It makes me uncomfortable to hear these words. It is he who has brought the comfort to me. Knowing that he is now here for the long hall brought me a peace I haven't known. I am finding myself again, that person who poked herself out on good days, seems to be slowly emerging. It's such a submerged feeling I'm not even sure what it it is, but I think I'm finding my wings.

Soon I should be ready to take off.

I'm Ready to Take a Chance Again

Well, its been just about four weeks, one cat scan, one MRI, and two neurologist visits later and I think my symptoms of a concussion are all pretty much over. Still some issues with my typing (but I was never that good anyway). No more nightmares, far less headaches, no problems rounding corners walking or driving. Concentration level returning. Ready to put my life on the line again with you.


I think.

Blowing Kisses

My daughter and I had been up for a few hours, I fed her breakfast, she blew kisses to her Daddy as he went to work and we were getting on with our daily routine. There was a play area in the basement for her, I had NBC in the background with Katie and Matt. While she played, I did laundry.

As I walked over the wooden gate between the laundry room and play area, the television was showing footage of billowing smoke coming from one of the World Trade Towers. There was talk that a plane had crashed into it. I thought that's one hell of a freak accident, I called my husband who was at work in Philadelphia, we pondered how this could "accidentally" happen. I informed him I would continue to watch, said "I love you", and we would check back later.

I stood transfixed in front of the TV, and minutes later I saw something flying around the tower in the distance, I held my breath. Within moments the second tower was hit, I watched it live on TV, but couldn't believe it happened. That's when I picked up my one year old daughter and held her close to me. My husband called and we both agreed it must be a terrorist attack. Then there were scattered reports of the Pentagon being hit. This was it, I thought, every major city has been targeted and the news reports would just keep coming. It was time to put my little one down for her morning nap so I did, because I needed to.

I called a girlfriend who worked in DC, she informed me she was safe and on her way home. Then, from the safety of my living room I watched the towers fall, the debris barreling down the streets of the city, the wounded, the people walking home over the bridges. The thick grey despair that fell over everything in the city. The wreckage of the plane near Pittsburgh.

I watched for days. The images I saw will haunt me forever. The way the photographs of the missing grew and grew along the walls at Ground Zero. All the while the rescue personnel continued searching. Interviews of people talking about the ones not yet found with hope in their hearts but anguish in their faces.

Knowing children just like mine had blown kisses to their Daddy's for the last time that morning.

Concussion

I feel down last sateuday night and my typing id atroucoius. The proff is I''m not editing anything i'm writing., my biggest badeest syptom aside form my headached ia my inability tio use the keyboead proberly. bear with me i shall return when it becomes less of a struggle. I think my mri is scheduled for next week of the week after. the sooner the better. wish me luck , and don't leave forever. thanks!
Carol

I Kissed Billy Joel

It was after the success of "Piano Man" he was hocking "Streetlife Serenade." I had a copy of "Cold Spring Harbor" which proves I was a big fan. He was playing at the Academy of Music, in Philadelphia. Great acoustics, these days only used for more high end entertainment. It's the Opera house used in "The Age of Innocence".

Janis Ian was the opening act, who I also liked a great deal. I loved her songs "At Seventeen"and "Society's Child". The thing I remember most from the concert is the anticipation. Once he came on the stage in his velveteen jacket he wore on his album covers, I remember little else. The encores had been played, and we all slowly headed out the doors to our vehicles.

It was the night of Thanksgiving and it was cold, I had left my family dinner to see Billy Joel live, with no regrets.

My date was 6'3". (this comes in handy later on) As we walked by the side street of the theater toward the lot were our car was parked, I notice the door that was clearly marked with the words "back stage" just like in a movie.
We stood for a moment, looked at each other, and although we really didn't believe that entertainers would actually leave through that door, we decided to stick around. Well, low and behold, out came Janis Ian - she's as big as me (under 5') we joked about it, I told her she's brilliant and I asked for her autograph. She giggled and said "you don't want my autograph, you want the guy in there". That's when my tall friend peeked into the narrow very high windows and saw Billy Joel with about four girls surrounding him. 

Next time that big locked stage door opened we did something crazy. We walked right it.

There I was standing behind Billy Joel (who isn't too tall himself) I was so close I was breathing on his black velveteen jacket. I could smell him. He WAS real. But I stood quietly. While the other girls talked, I listening. Then one girl gave him a rose and he kissed her on the cheek. I made my move....I tapped on his velveteen shoulder, he turned to look at me and I said: "Could I have one of those?"

He said: "Sure" just like that. He kissed me on the lips.

HISTORY WAS MADE! I KISSED BILLY JOEL! ACTUALLY BILLY JOEL KISSED ME.

I was in heaven for weeks.
Two things plagued me for a few years after that.
1. If I had not been with my boyfriend would I have a better story?
2. How could I forget about the camera I had stashed in my coat pocket? 

No More

When I was 18 I met a boy
When I was 21 I got pregnant, and had an abortion
When I was 31 I met a man, the wrong man
When I was 41 I met another man
When I was 46 I got pregnant and I had a daughter
When I was 48 I got pregnant, and it died inside me
Soon I will be 58. No more men, no more pregnancies.

No more.