Posted by annamaynot on October 31, 2004, at 9:34:53
I love that poem, thank you Dean Koontz. It seems to both sing to me and mock me. It feels as if my whole life I have been walking that road trying to find...well, me. Who am I? What am I doing? Where am I going? Are we there yet? I know that I am depressed, but is that all there is to me? I had such hopes and dreams. What happened to them? I thought I wanted to have children, so I did. Now they are all grown up and don't seem to have much love or respect for me. Do I expect them to? No. I guess I don't have much love or respect for myself. Why not? I don't know. I'm a nice person. I took very good care of my children and sacrificed (I hate that word. I didn't sacrifice, I just gave them freely of myself as to their individual needs.) As children they loved me, as adults they make fun of me. I am depressed. I have panic attacks, anxiety disorders. I cannot sleep without meds. My doctor says I have fibromyalgia. Isn't that a make-believe disease that only nuts have? I don't leave the house for months on end. Once I went nine months without going out. No one noticed for a while. Then, I made a sincere effort to get better. I confessed. I went to the doctor. I went to therapy. I took Paxil. I went for walks. I crossed the street all by myself. I fell down and broke both legs. A sign from above that I belong in the house. I wonder every night why I will wake up in the morning. I'm quite useless. I don't even cook anymore. I used to be famous for my cooking. Or clean. I used to have patterns in my carpet. Now I knit. I knit and knit and knit and then give the product to the Salvation Army. Am I depressed? Am I crazy? Where am I? Who am I? Where am I going? What am I doing? How much longer do I have to do it?
poster:annamaynot
thread:409502
URL: http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/newbs/20040812/msgs/409502.html