Wow. Yep, I know I said my next post would be back to pretty dresses, but it turns out there’s one more needed before I get back to the sewing ones. So, here we go… (Along with a few photos taken recently with my phone camera, for one reason or another. Because a blog post without images just seems like it’s missing something, don’t ya think?)
First, I want to say a huge, massive thank-you to all of you. Those who read my last post, those who commented, who messaged me, who called me. I really wasn’t expecting such an outpouring, and quite frankly words escape me when it comes to describing how it felt! It was overwhelming, but in the best possible way. (And I will reply to you all soon – I’m finding it hard to reply to more than one or two comments or messages at a time, so it’s slow going as I pause to take in each one.)
I also want to say a huge, huge thank-you to those of you who have shared your stories. Personal stories of pain, grief, loss, aloneness. And so, so very many stories. All individual, all personal, all private, and all shared with love.
It really bought home how common this is. How so many of us go through something along these lines in our lives. And how very, very few of us talk about it, at the time or years afterwards. How we feel we can’t talk about it, and so we bury it inside of us, a wound that never fully heals and by it’s existence helps shape who we are.
Another thing that really stood out to me was the ongoing effects. The guilt that often follows us through life – feelings of guilt about not being strong enough, about having felt that way, and about not talking about it.
And yet, despite how common it is, we tend to go through these experiences in silence. Both during, and after. During, we don’t feel we can talk about it – it’s too overwhelming, too all-encompassing. It’s like a tsunami looming over your shoulder, and acknowledging it’s existence threatens to set it loose to destroy everything you’re trying valiantly to hold together. And of course, the feelings of guilt, of not wanting to burden, of having no one you can talk to safely.
After, we still tend not to talk about things. It’s like a guilty secret – holding inside, something that we worry will make others think about us differently if they found out about it. And the habit of not talking sticks – the scar forms over the wound and we keep our silence.
Yet we all need to talk. So many of us, going through things like this during our lives. And so many of us feeling alone, feeling lost, holding on by only our fingertips.
What if we all talked about it? What if it wasn’t such a social taboo? What if we were all taught about depression and it’s relatives during school, when we start university, when we’re expecting our first baby? What if there was active awareness, especially at times in peoples lives when we are most vulnerable to our brain chemistry getting disrupted? How would it change things, for even one of us, some of us, all of us?
And how can we start doing this, as individuals, as friends and families, as communities, as society?
Thank you again to everyone who reached out. To the encouraging comments, the caring messages, and the sharing of stories. All of you – I genuinely appreciate you.
(Next up – a floral halter dress. 🙂