Great rumble of trains passing
        somber home in the darkness
grandpa snoring--
   little quilt with knobs of fabric

The trains ran by
  their whistles blowing
while i sat and held the little drops of fabric in my hands

The fire was stoked in the little woodstove
   and grandpa got up at 4am to feed it wood
to warm up the children and grandchildren in the house

Balogna sandwiches and ice tea
  My father's little brass piano player in a corner
of the sparse living room
  Grandma's quilts and yarn rugs all around.


I treasured those times--those nights.
Nothing could take their place in my little world.

Diary of a running break: Knees and hips and muscles Oh My

A runner who can't run. It's the definition of frustration.

My knees and hips have been bothering me more than ever lately. I hate it. It upsets me.

But it also changes my definition of myself. My identity as a runner was all tied up to my self-esteem. It was tied up to my friendships and relationships. It was tied up to my image of myself. But the hardest thing to let go of is my idea of how to stay fit. I have had to change that. My hips are not allowing me to run right now. My muscles feel sore for far longer than I want them to. My knees hurt a lot more now no matter how much I rest and what else I do.

But here lies the trick: It's not what you DO for fitness. It's just that you stay as fit as possible while nursing your body back to health. It is the idea of NOT pushing yourself that can sometimes be the most difficult and yet the most important thing you will ever accomplish. Keeping myself healthy for life is more important than pushing something to achieve a lifestyle I am not able to continue for long. I am in this body for life. I need to treat it with more respect than I previously have by pushing the running when I am not fit for it at the time.

I must be smart.

Smart sucks sometimes. It feels depressing to not be able to achieve a runner's high when i need it. It feels frustrating to see everyone doing their great runs and races and knowing that at this time I am unable to do that. Not that i am not happy for my friends---and extremely proud of them. I just want to join them--for runs, races, events, exciting moments in their lives.

I want that identity back. I want that feeling of accomplishment back.

How will I get those things back? Weightlifting, swimming, biking, walking alone or with friends, taking care of myself, getting enough sleep, de-stressing and remembering that my setback can lead to my comeback--a stronger and better person than before.

That is worth waiting for. I can get into other things and my identity can change from "runner" to whatever I choose to become. It can be good enough to be "heather" and realize that just because I cannot run isn't the end of my self-esteem, my good feelings about myself, my fitness and my ability to spend time with friends. It's different but not bad.

So...as I spend time with my doctors getting the hips and knees working better again I can find some ways to spend my time constructively and appreciating my runs later on in my life as a great gift--something to be treasuring. And if I not ever able to really run again?


That can be okay too.

Celebrating Mom

My mom has had a difficult life. She has weathered it with grace however it has not been easy. I wish I lived closer, and perhaps someday I will, but when I do get to spend time with her it is a wonderful thing.

She celebrated her 71st birthday last weekend. My aunt gay put together a grand party at her assisted living facility and family came from all around. My mom, in her usual manner, seemed pleased but reserved. But I knew she was touched by all the attention.

I love my family. I live so far from them, at least for someone without a car, however I enjoy my time with them very much. Coming from a very small nuclear family--only my dad, mom and I--I treasure my aunts, uncles and cousins very much. My grandparents are all passed on. My dad also is gone. So here is my mom--she is holding steady--and I love her so much. I appreciate how hard things have been for her and appreciate my family who takes care of her and all the care she receives at her care center. I wish things had been easier for her but, like I said, she has taken it all in with a grace that belies the difficulty of her years.

She became mentally ill in 1984 when I was 14 and before that weathered many storms with my father--also with a mental health diagnosis himself--and yet was always such a positive influence on me. We were the best of friends growing up and that hasn't changed much over the years.

My card said "You are my best friend."  and that is the honest truth.

Echoes down the hall--depression and finding your friends

Being a person going through a depression that has gone through it before feels like echoes down the hall. It reverberates through my life like footsteps leaving prints on everything I do.
A man once said to me "Depression is a deep well. Once you get down there you need to climb up a lot of shit to get back to the top." It's like that story about the donkey. The farmer decided he didn't want his old donkey anymore. He put it down in a well. He started throwing dirt down there. After awhile he noticed the donkey was getting out of the well. Confused he looked down and saw that the donkey had climbed up the pile of dirt to get back up out of the well.

That's what it is like getting through a depressive phase. You just keep climbing up the dirt that lies before you. It is not easy. It is not simple. But it can be effective. I hope it is effective.

All I ask of those that care is just be my friend and ride the roller coaster somewhere with me. You can be at the front of the cars just glancing back to see if I am still there. You can be behind me watching me do the loop-de-loops. You can, if you are brave, be beside me holding my hand.

But you don't have to do anything else. It's not something you can fix. It's only something you can live through with me or you can let me go until it is easier to be with me. Either way I still love you. Either way I still trust you. We will be laughing in the sunshine again sometime.


Peace.

Poem: Moon-drenched and star-kissed

Moon-drenched and star-kissed

A dark night sky,

diamond studded

and moon-drenched

calls to her in her sleep.

She moves, like a cat,

through the house

and out on the lawn,

gazing upwards to that

great, round moon-

those bright pinpricks of stars.

A delicate breeze plays out

in the trees—it twirls her hair

and braids it.

She only has eyes for the skies.

Her arms lifting overhead

she tries her best to grasp

the moonlight.

And, in her arms, there is

only that steady wind,

raising her up on tiptoe

to try, once more, to be part

of the nevermore.

In that beautiful night.

Heather Lake

Poem: The Dreaming

The Dreaming

She glanced to the window, watching leaves disco in the wind--

rustles along the wide path to the garden fence,

like the crinoline skirts of dancing ladies

and the wind sighed.

The chair she sat in-a rocking chair of cherry wood-

kept her safe within it's carved confines.

She sat with hands in her lap

and dreamed of wider places where there

were no garden gates-

of seas gasping against white, sandy shores

and sprays of foam roaring up

great gray cliffs,

screaming gulls overhead.

Dreamed of a starched white portico

facing a Greek island village-

all stairs, white cottages and cats lounging-

the sea a blue ribbon winding out.

Or THERE--

a small cafe in a village in Tuscany,

buried among green hills--

rich, dark coffee and a bright red door--

riding a bike through windy forgotten streets.

              Her home, both her safety net and her prison,

was kept clean and curtains drawn

so no one would come and see her face.

Her smiles, fleeting like shooting stars,

would melt you as ice in the sun,

but she seldom smiled anymore.

She sat-hands in her lap-

dreams floating through her mind,

listening to her life pass her by,

and still---she felt nothing--

her safety was also her box.

It kept her quiet-it kept her still-

it kept her.

Heather Lake

A discussion about depression and anxiety: what worries do to you and why they do it

                        Hi. Depression and anxiety. Hmmm...how do we start a conversation?

"I'm depressed. I have social anxiety. I have noise anxiety. I have out-of-the-house-on-a-daily-basis anxiety."
            
                       Does that work?

How about "Some days I am so worried about my friends that I can't talk to my friends."
       
                                                         OR

"Some nights I worry that my anxiety is causing my depression to increase therefore the worries cause more anxiety which leads me to being depressed that I am worried which leads to more worry about people,things, situations and also whether or not I have enough eggs for breakfast."

THEN I need to leave the house to GET eggs for breakfast which is an anxiety-producing thing in itself. The car/bus/walk to the store? The People IN the store? Talking to the people in the store? Finding which eggs I want? What kind of clothes do I wear for a quick trip to the store? Am I talking to myself without knowing it? Um.....so maybe I will have oatmeal for breakfast.



I get depressed in the evenings....and the mornings...during the day. But also before bed, IN bed, when I get out of bed and when I walk into the living room to see one of my cats has once again threw up a hairball on my couch.

Crying is just part of living. Like drinking water, sweating, breathing and brushing my teeth. Sometimes I cry while i do all three of those. Brushing my teeth is difficult while crying. You are filling your mouth with water and yet water is also coming out of your face. You could almost replace the water from the faucet with the tears especially since the saltiness will act as a sort of  'plaque loofa' .  If you have to cry in public hopefully it will be raining. Then the tears can just look like rain running down your face.


Crying it not to be confused with actual sadness. It is, like I said, just something that happens with depression sometimes. As sweating is to exercise crying is to depression. As race jitters is to competitive events anxiety is to anything in life which requires me to go outside; listen to noises; deal with friend conflicts; be in an environment in which responsibility is given to me like eating in a restaurant, buying movie tickets, sit in an audience, wear something nice but uncomfortable and basically leaving my safe space.


Okay. I guess that's as much as I can say about depression and anxiety right now. I am sure I will think of more things later......when i am not so worried about my worries about how this blog post will go. Yup. That's it. For now.

I have to end this somehow.

um..............Bye? Yes...that's it. Bye.