It has happened so many times, You would think I’d be an expert by now. Perhaps in some areas. But despair is not an area in which I wish to excel Yet it seems to call me all too often, and certainly with more intimacy than is welcome or necessary.

Having just gone through a bad spell of this insidious depression, or as I prefer to call it: Melancholia. I would not wish it upon any friend or foe. While it may sound melodramatic, I feel this word better depicts what I feel, than say depression. 

Tomato, tomatoe…Potato, potatoe… Call it what you like, but in the end, does it truly matter the name by which you call it? It is what it is: A malady for which there is no quick remedy, nor permanent. At least in my case. 

Some may beg to differ, I call it as I see it. 

When one thinks of a child, there is usually unbridled joy and wonder in just the simple act of being alive. You see it when babies become aware of their caregivers and surroundings.

Babies explore. When their most basic needs are met, with consistency, they are validated. They are secure in their parents love and care. This is what helps a child thrive and grow. Love is the sunshine, and water is the security for the roots they’ll grow. So they will stand tall and strong. Children are our trees of the future.

Sometimes, perhaps more often than we care to think, the odds seem stacked impossibly high against them, through no fault of their own. Perhaps their parents as well. 

What happens when there is absolutely no love and support upon the birth of a child? What happens when a young vulnerable mother is thrust into the world, with an infant and has absolutely no support? Not even family?

In fact, their family may well be the very toxin that has contributed to their chaotic and barren life. Indeed, this could spell disaster, and often does. It’s become quite clear in some aspects how my mother’s life has affected mine in untold ways. How it is now affecting my family.

 It’s no pebble though. It’s like a huge boulder being cast into water. The ripple affects are present long after. How simple but profound actions, have greater consequences than we can possibly imagine.

Just as I hold myself responsible for my own shortcomings as a parent, my mother most definitely did not have it easy either. And quite possibly my grandmother. It is a vicious cycle in which we all become mired indefinitely, if we let ourselves sink in helplessness. 

Unless and until, one chooses to break the cycle. To choose a different path.

Ultimately, we are the author of our own life. Characters will come and go, but it is our story until we say “THE END!”

Make no mistake, I am not minimizing or “letting her off the hook”, but I am tired of living in the past where such misery is ever present. 

I am not infallible, no one is. Sitting in a place of judgement is actually quite exhausting, truth be told. However, standing on our little soap box and casting the pointed finger of shame in every direction, is far easier than taking a good hard look in the mirror. 

I want to run and hide when thinking of past mistakes, or bury my head in shame. It feels like putting on concrete shoes and attempting to run a marathon. Not an easy feat, I reckon. I would not be the person I am today, warts and all, if not for my past experiences. It’s where my humor, macabre as it seems, comes from.

Behind the laughter, there is a sea of tears. Hidden behind ominous clouds is where hope masquerades as the sun. May the sun shine bright again on your troubles, and offer hope. Reach out, my friend, Dare to change your fate. It’s never too late!

To come from a place of compassion and understanding is much better than pointing the finger of blame and judgement. This journey has been a long road, and a long time in coming, though the path lies ahead stretching indefinitely. 

This is not to say I have it all figured out, but I am more aware of my thought processes and how it can affect my life and those around me. I wish I could say, that once and for all, I am done with feeling like a failure at this long drawn out test called life.

Perhaps, my biggest challenge is learning to forgive myself. Why is it so much easier to forgive the trespasses of others? But not ourselves? However, it’s a journey, not a destination. I still have a ways to go. I must learn to set myself free, before I can finally live a more peaceful life. I don’t want to live a tortured existence anymore. 

I deserve to be at peace with myself, and my family would reap the benefits as well. Whatever it takes, I must decide I am worth it!

Avid reader, hopeful author. A mom who loves nature and animals. Visit Robin on Medium.
Avid reader, hopeful author. A mom who loves nature and animals. Visit Robin on Medium.
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