There has been a lot of rain this spring. It has been an unusual time and the storms have often been violent. I rarely see them coming. The man that I am dating makes things grow and I have learned through him to watch the clouds form and shift, into something beautiful or something dangerous. A hail storm arriving at the end of a previously sunny day can wipe out an entire years crop in twenty minutes. Just as too much humidity can tempt a certain insect to prosper overnight, leaving a field of strawberries that cannot be sold in its wake.
And yet life remains in bloom. The pears are on the trees, budding forward, filling form, bulbous.
Sometimes I pray to scatter the clouds. And sometimes I watch in wonder and let them be.
It is deeply humbling. This knowledge that there is always shadows, always light. It keeps repeating like the echo of approaching thunder, like the whisper of love in the crook of my neck.
And yet we don’t always wish to acknowledge that both exist, permanently…en permanence, un à côté de l’autre…that there is no dividing line, no simple answer. Save for when sometimes, divinely, there is. We all have our own moments of precious gifts, shining. A breath, a reprieve.
After my last post, or maybe the one before it, I received an Anonymous comment that I accidentally deleted but that has stayed with me. It was something along the lines of: “I was so happy to read what seemed like good news from you, until I realized that it wasn’t…again.” That disappointment. But I don’t want to hide my struggles, whether real or imagined (typed with a wry smile) because this is also the conversation that we need to be having. Openly, honestly.
I am not seeing what I want to read after the suicides of Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain. There is much about what they accomplished but the act itself is often a link to a small article that is strict to the facts. Quotes from police examiners. Suicide by hanging…It makes my heart drop and tears rise just to type those three words. For I have great empathy that their struggles reached that point of no return, having known what is mercifully (and I use that word specifically) chronic low-grade depression most of my adult life but also periods that were dangerous, and life-threatening.
We have to move away from the shame in our society about depression and mental illness. We are seeing that now. Losses…out in the fields or within our hearts…are a wakeup call. Let’s listen. It is only through acknowledging openly the darkness when it arises, if it arises, that we can continue to grow. To hear a spring song, perhaps sung quietly, but in the tune of our own true voice.
For anyone who is directly or indirectly touched by depression or mental illness, please reach out. We are here for you.
With much Love and Gratitude,
Thank you for your post, Heather. Beautiful writing as always!
So many people seem to be coming forward at the moment with their own storied=s of being touched by depression and anxiety. The more it is openly acknowledged and spoken about, the more people will realise that it is a mental health issue, a disease to be treated and not something shameful. It affects many families, regardless of income, social standing or success. As the stigma is gradually taken away, even that alone might lessen the loneliness and shame that this disease carries with it.
Cheers, Deborah from Melbourne
Knowledge sprinkled with love. How wonderful to take a bite out of that.
Dearest Heather,
I echo the "thank you" for this post. My heart hurts when I read judgments without knowing. For, even when you think you know, each journey is singular, owned only by one. It takes so little to open one's arms and embrace, even if we don't fully understand. I love your willingness to share; it is always that break of sun in a stormy sky. Love to you. Angela Muller
Dear Heather,
From the pics, it looks like you’ve been visiting my garden. (ps Lovely message, too)
Patricia 2
my dear Heather, when you write, "always" as you write, you touch my heart..somehow I even pretend you know me..for your writings certainly show that…..xo……..this post hit me & I think i have that depression, my heart is longing to share my life & my tribe, even when reached to with many olive branches heck even trees, seldom reach back if then……I play in my leaves, trees, flowers, & herbs I love them & they love me too….I have no family to love anymore…….much love to you Heather XO
Is that HIM, bending over in a field?
More later.
Dear Heather,
First of all, thanks again for the sincere posting. Secondly?….email me an address to which I can send a portrait I finished while I was also finishing up pieces for the new show…of you and the dogs on a bright hill (blue sky, happy smile, etcetera). It's quite lovely. I thought you might like to give it to a member of your family? I know that you're quite close to them.
Just email an address to me.,,,,and do, please, keep well.
sincerely,
David Terry
Heather, I echo David's "thank you." Your final words, "To hear a spring song, perhaps sung quietly, but in the tune of our own true voice," speaks volumes to me. And I am riveted by these photographs, they pull me right in and I feel that I am sitting on your shoulder. I am well aware of how serious depression is, starting when I was just 11 years old and my brother who is 10 year's older had his first serious bout. Sadly, it was not handled well. He is still with us, but was greatly misunderstood by our father who was just cruel. It is true that we have to do the reaching out — when people are depressed they often retreat into themselves. But this reminds me, personally, that I need to keep doing that even though I may not get a response. Sending love, Judith
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Thank you, Heather, for this post.
sincerely,
David Terry
Quail Roost Farm
Rougemont, NC
USA