Why is this so effing hard?

Anxiety and depression. Hand in hand, they tug one me one way or the other.  I think I have one under control and the other pops up “Surprise! Can’t get rid of me that easily.” No forgiveness with this hell. Just day in day out wondering if today is the day I’ll finally feel better. Or perhaps wondering if this is it. Maybe this is as good as it gets. Psych appt on Thursday and I’ll tell him the depression has reared its ugly head again. Probably another med change or tinkering with dosages again. Frustrated. Agitated. Sad. Affecting my relationships and my school work. Wonder if I’ll ever get better. Don’t have high hopes even though my therapist thinks that “deep down I’m an optimist.”
Yup, that’s my past month. Questioning my self, questioning my “normal.” Tired of all the questioning. Oh, and got told off by an acquaintance that insulted a friend of mine on my fb, so I kindly deleted his comment. Yay me.




Took the past week and went to one of the national parks for some r&r and time away from daily stressors, stressful family and loud noises. I just wanted me, the nature and the quiet. I called it my “writing retreat” in hopes that I would get some thesis work done too. It’s been so long since I got quality time to do good work. I thought if I called it a writing retreat, it just might inspire me to write.
It worked! I have chapters 1 and 2 edited now, and am working on chapter 3.

It’s really scary for me to write for some reason. I used to be a good writer, and could pump out a term paper no problem. I guess now, it’s different. This is, by far, the biggest chunk of writing I’ve tackled. And I have all the fears of failing, haunting me. And I had to apply for an extension to my doctoral program. I applied on medical grounds, and I have a good letter from my physician, but I’m still scared they will deny me, based on “no regress made”. I had a rough year. Do I expect it to get better? Yes? Has it already? Yes. God, I really hope I get the extension.

Anyway, my week retreat is almost up. I’ve loved it here in the woods and I’m hoping to do it again by myself, in August.

Here’s one of the friends I made. 



This is my favorite song by Ferron, a folksinger from Canada. The words resonate with me.

Copyright © 1994 Nemesis Publishing, All Rights Reserved

It’s been a year since you left home for higher ground. In the distance I hear a hoot owl ask the only question I have found to be worthy of the sound it makes as it breaks the silence of your old town. These letters are another way to love you.

It takes trouble, and it takes courage to be free. But you ‘ll find, it you are soft enough, love will hang around for free. And the coldest bed I found does not hold one but it will hold three. I hope you never have to know what that can mean.

It’s safe to say I took the long and winding path. And were it not for loving friendships who knows how long I would have lasted. You’re young one day but youth is rude and while you watch it walks right past and then…hey…you get your chance to think like me.

When I was young I was in service to my pain. On sunny days you’d find me walking miles to look for rain. And as many times I swapped it all just to hop a moving train. Looking back, it was a most expensive way to get around.

And I found that all the world could love you save for one. And I don’t know why it is, but that kiss will be the haunted one. You’ll pine and weep and you’ll lose good sleep and you’ll think your life has come undone, until you learn to turn and spurn that bitter wind.

Because it’ll probably be the one you least expect to, who will wager through your storm with you, who will give your fears respect… who will melt your burden down…though you probably don’t want that yet, still…the odds fall sweet in favor to an open heart.

Seems to me the tools for being human are wicked crude. They’re not so slick and smooth and shiny as some stranger might allude. And while your longest night might test you, you don’t be scared of solitude. And remember what is shared is also true.

Because there’s a place where the water races wide. And you could be hard pressed (in the muck of time) just trying to reach the other side. You learn to find the only way, or you learn to say you tried. It seems to me a lot of little towns were made that way.

Now while I’m at it…let me tell you about the moon. Because I heard some people talking, looks like we’re probably going to have to move there soon. All I know is the face it shows at midnight is not the one it shows at noon. But I bet it’s a standing kind of wistful from over there.

In a word, I heard that life’s a cactus tree. And should you find a way to break it’s skin, won’t you have a drink for me. But…if you’re standing near a cactus, you’re probably where you shouldn’t be. Isn’t this why you left your home, though you love me.

Now when I imagine life is only time and space…then I guess I’ve seen the best of it upon your tender, loving face. And the faith that you bestowed in me gives me a solid sense of place. I learn to say…Fire, Water, Earth and Air…I learn to say Fire, Water, Earth and Air…I learn to say Fire, Water, Earth and Air…and I’ll see you there.