Every single one of you. Your words got me through and gave me hope. I wish I could reply to each of you because you all deserve it but today I am wrung out, exhausted. I slept horribly last night if I slept at all and then went to work and I guess I did a good job. It’s hard to give when you’re empty. In my job I see a lot of people with depression and my heart aches for them. There is one person that just sits in the same spot day after day. I only have 15 minutes and no real time to acknowledge his humanness but I try. He was listening to folk music when I went in to give lunch meds and I made him laugh when Tom Dooley came on. I told him we learned that song when I was in a school choir when I was about 8. I told him that I didn’t think about it at the time but is there a worse song to teach a small child? It’s equal to teaching today’s children a Marilyn Manson song. I mean, good lord. What were they thinking?
All throughout today I was thinking how the world needs another hero. I was not even alive when Winston Churchill died but didn’t he give people of that time hope? Politics aside, it seems people slept better at night knowing he was there. It was a horrible time and there someone who seemed to want to make things better. Like Obama. Or maybe Obama in hindsight. I don’t realize how amazing he was until now. I don’t know. I’m not American and Churchill is long dead. Maybe I like him because he had brutal depression and it made him a better person. FYI – He came up with the term, “The Black Dog”.
On a totally unrelated topic I just ate an organic mandarin orange that was so good I thought I still had half of it but had eaten the whole thing. So I had two more. Wouldn’t life be nice if more things in life were easy as peeling a mandarin orange? It seems everything takes effort these days. Mandarin oranges? Shwooop! Peeled. Eat. Have another.
I was looking through my Joy Box* today, something I do when things get really dark. It’s full of things that make me laugh or at least smile. I came across this picture in the paper about 15 years ago. I wonder, did this poor creature ever get a home? A sorry excuse for a cat if there ever was. Her fur is matted all to hell. Her ear is either bent or missing, I can’t tell which. You just know she would emit an odor that would clear a room. And she looks surly. Even the caption is funny. She is so completely pathetic she is cute. And yes, funny. Poor Georgia.
*I really need to come up with a better name for it. Joy Box sounds like a phrase to describe my downbelows, And I really should not call it my downbelows. I spend too much time with old people.