If You Are Burdened…

I loved my Kate Spade handbag.

It was practical and stylish, two words common to describing her designs. I was lucky — I got it half-off, something the snide sales person had no problem disdainfully pointing out when I paid for it (a story for another day). Never mind him. I had my Kate Spade handbag.

I carried it for years, until the wear and tear made it too embarassing to use any more. That’s my sole connection to Kate Spade. But when I heard about her death today, I was moved to tears. The story is coming out that she committed suicide, and that breaks my heart.

A friend who was at one time suicidal described to me what she felt in this way:

“It was like there was weight on my body, an outside pressure that made it hard to breathe. All the sorrow and pain I’d felt in my life was trapped inside of me. The only thing I wanted to do was break away from it, and death seemed like the only option.”

She made a phone call and followed the advice of a professional. Later she had to work her way through the physical, emotional and spiritual pain. Today she tells me she no longer struggles with those feelings and their burden, but it took her some time to deal with the issues that caused them, including physiological factors.

I am not a professional, nor in any way am I trained to advise someone who is feeling suicidal. If you are suffering with those feelings, please call the National Suicide Prevention Hotline at 1-800-273-8255.


Image Credit: ©eyetronic – stock.adobe.com

 

Muddled and Down

For some time now, I’ve been depressed. Not serious, suicidal-type depression, but a low-level unhappiness that has manifested itself in several unhealthy ways.

The most obvious is the stress eating. I hate to say it, but chowing down a share-size bag of Peanut M&Ms is satisfying (share-size, my butt). It makes me feel better. The problem is, I can’t eat like I used to without gaining weight. I’m finding it more and more difficult to fit into the clothes that used to flatter me so.

It’s not that I’ve gained a ton of weight. I’m about eight pounds heavier than I want to be, although truth to tell, eight extra pounds on me somehow looks like twenty extra pounds on your average woman. I guess I gain it in my face and tummy first, which gives one the appearance of bulk. Extra, unsightly bulk.

I’m working on changing this, everything from using the ladies’ room on the far end of the building to (yes) cutting down on the M&Ms. I’d like to cut them out completely, but I’m afraid my eventual response to that kind of deprivation would be binge eating.

My depression hasn’t stopped me from pursuing goals, but it’s slowed down things like writing for and participating in blogging. I don’t see glorious hope in the future. I don’t deny the problem; I’ve dealt with serious depression before. I have to wonder about all the people out there suffering from the same thing, whose lives are muddled by vague thoughts such as, “if I died today, no big deal.” Perhaps they don’t know it’s depression, it’s an illness, it can be treated.

Depression can be circumstantial, but it isn’t always. For me, circumstances are getting better, but I’m still down. I’m getting help, I’m taking steps to change.

But the struggle continues.


If you face these same problems, please seek help from a licensed professional. It isn’t something that can be helped by motivational speeches or a determination to push through the sadness. While these are difficult times in the world without sound leadership, that’s not the problem, either. There is hope, even though believing that may have to be an intellectual exercise for the time being. 

Hey, Cupid! Over here! I SAID OVER HERE!

On occasion well-meaning friends will say, “I just don’t understand why you’ve never gotten married. You’re so blahdadeblah and blahblah!” Come to think of it, it’s almost always my newer friends who say this…hmmm…

Cupid's StruckWell, yes, I am all those things, but I’m also something else: really slow on the uptake. Always have been. I do not pick up on clues from or about men, and since I don’t, I’ve never had any experience in responding to them. My imagination doesn’t even go there.

I need a good wing man, but typically those who might fill that role are so stunned or amused by my oblivion they don’t step up.

I’ve been chatting with a really nice man at my church lately. Nice, good looking, successful. (You don’t know how remarkable it is I’m aware of all those things and their “value.”) Today, it’s quite possible he threw out the hook for going out to lunch after the service. I just stared at it. In all fairness, it’s been a long dry spell.

As he was walking away, I cried out inside. Bad enough I missed my chance, but it probably stung for him, and looked like rejection.

It wasn’t. It was sheer stupidity on my part.

This comes close on the heels of meeting a man who, as it happens, was also introduced to a friend of mine several months before (not for a set-up or anything, just in the course of the day). I mentioned to her I’d talked to him for a little while (it actually was a long while), and her eyes lit up.

“What?” I asked.

“He’s a good-looking man,” she said, with a raised eyebrow and knowing nod.

He is? I thought about it, and darn if she wasn’t right. Now, we all know the relative value of looks in a relationship, so it’s important to note this guy is pretty nice, too. Charming. I did notice that, although it had taken some time to register.

I had had plenty of time to flirt with him, but it’s just as well THAT didn’t happen. Like I said, those skills are not highly refined. I might end up looking like a sad character on a popular sitcom.

I have before. I know, we all have. But for most it ends up alright and another stage of relationship mortification begins.

It’s more likely than not I’ll never see that second man again, and I have no idea if the first man can be convinced it was me, not him. Sounds like a line.

So Cupid, a little extra help here. You’ve been doing pretty good, is it too much to ask for another chance with someone of the same ilk?

Hey, you little fat-cheeked pixie, don’t just fly away! Get back here! NOW! DAMMIT CUPID! Okay. Be that way.

Uh, yes, oblivion perhaps isn’t the only thing keeping the men away.

Cupid Take Aim
Wait, wait, before you shoot that arrow…must love cats!  I’m not giving up Walter and Mimi!

 

 

Image Credits: (Clouds) © Pakhnyushchyy – Fotolia; (Heart Background) © karandaev – Fotolia; (Cupids) © vectorartisfree.com