So easy to say to someone, and I have said it myself. I have also heard it myself, from those who cared for me and meant well, but said it anyway. If you have had people tell you this, maybe repeatedly. you are probably a sufferer with me. If so, I hope I have never told you to pull yourself up by your bootstraps and "just deal." No one needs to tell you or me to do that...you and I, my friends, do that every day. Some days the bootstrap is hellishly long, some days not so bad. But if you see me and I seem down, can you just please say I care for you, I hope you feel better soon...whatever. Just don't tell me to pull myself up by my bootstraps. If you see me at work, I can promise you I HAVE ALREADY PULLED MYSELF UP BY THE DAMNED BOOTSTRAPS. If you did not see my name in the Obits in today's paper, or those "online," then I indeed pulled myself up by my bootstraps for one more day. And yes, I DID JUST DEAL, too.
Some days are good, some are better, and some days are an eternity that changes hour by hour. And "luckily" for me someone will sooner or later tell me, "man, pull yourself up by your bootstraps and..." By this time I have waved and walked on. I know he or she meant well. One of the bad things (or good things - it changes, you see) about this thing my friends and I carry is that it does not have visible signs, other than maybe a not quite so bright smile or a not so quick greeting. There are no crutches or wheelchairs, no walking canes with bright red tips, that let others know we are chronically ill. Because of the lack of obvious "signs," no one knows I have this burden, and so when I am "down" or otherwise less than cheerful, someone will eventually tell me, "aww, c'mon...pick yourself up by your bootstraps, and just deal." Yes, right on cue.
John Denver wrote a song that was both about his lost marriage and his soul's unhappiness, which I think now was depression gone untreated. John said:
Some days are diamonds, some days are stone
Sometimes the hard times won't leave me alone
Some days are good, some are better, and some days are an eternity that changes hour by hour. And "luckily" for me someone will sooner or later tell me, "man, pull yourself up by your bootstraps and..." By this time I have waved and walked on. I know he or she meant well. One of the bad things (or good things - it changes, you see) about this thing my friends and I carry is that it does not have visible signs, other than maybe a not quite so bright smile or a not so quick greeting. There are no crutches or wheelchairs, no walking canes with bright red tips, that let others know we are chronically ill. Because of the lack of obvious "signs," no one knows I have this burden, and so when I am "down" or otherwise less than cheerful, someone will eventually tell me, "aww, c'mon...pick yourself up by your bootstraps, and just deal." Yes, right on cue.
John Denver wrote a song that was both about his lost marriage and his soul's unhappiness, which I think now was depression gone untreated. John said:
Some days are diamonds, some days are stone
Sometimes the hard times won't leave me alone
Sometimes a cold wind blows a chill in my bones
Some days are diamonds, some days are stones.
John Denver summed it up well. There is no logic or system in it...some days are diamonds, some days are stone...and very often it is the same day. And sometimes there is no reason for those feelings. Blessings can be counted, happy songs can be sung, and friends can be around. I guess in a way it can be compared to someone who suffers with asthma. With modern treatment, that person goes through most days without any problem, because the daily dose of "meds" controls the symptoms. Except for those times when the meds DO NOT control the symptoms. The asthmatic is suddenly unable to get a breath of air, and I believe, for a few seconds, may feel some degree of panic. But, the person then pulls a rescue inhaler from his pocket or her purse, breathes in the medicine, and soon normal breathing is restored.
No, I am not saying that chronic depression is as acutely life-threatening as a sudden asthma attack, please understand. I am saying that unlike with an asthma attack, there is no "rescue inhaler" for depression. Depression can rob the sufferer of many of life's pleasures, and can be just as "terminal" as any deadly cancer that persists no matter what measures are used to stem its growth. I sympathize anyone who suffers from chronic depression, and I promise to work in all earnestness to never say those words, "c'mon, just pull yourself up by your bootstraps." I can tell you that my poor fingers are quite sore from tugging on the old bootstraps so many times, and so many times more than just once a day, when the day is a stone instead of a diamond.
Some days are diamonds, some days are stones.
John Denver summed it up well. There is no logic or system in it...some days are diamonds, some days are stone...and very often it is the same day. And sometimes there is no reason for those feelings. Blessings can be counted, happy songs can be sung, and friends can be around. I guess in a way it can be compared to someone who suffers with asthma. With modern treatment, that person goes through most days without any problem, because the daily dose of "meds" controls the symptoms. Except for those times when the meds DO NOT control the symptoms. The asthmatic is suddenly unable to get a breath of air, and I believe, for a few seconds, may feel some degree of panic. But, the person then pulls a rescue inhaler from his pocket or her purse, breathes in the medicine, and soon normal breathing is restored.
No, I am not saying that chronic depression is as acutely life-threatening as a sudden asthma attack, please understand. I am saying that unlike with an asthma attack, there is no "rescue inhaler" for depression. Depression can rob the sufferer of many of life's pleasures, and can be just as "terminal" as any deadly cancer that persists no matter what measures are used to stem its growth. I sympathize anyone who suffers from chronic depression, and I promise to work in all earnestness to never say those words, "c'mon, just pull yourself up by your bootstraps." I can tell you that my poor fingers are quite sore from tugging on the old bootstraps so many times, and so many times more than just once a day, when the day is a stone instead of a diamond.
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