Hi Rose, I have been fighting depression and anxiety me entire life, Below are a couple of posts that I have written in the past couple of weeks. These were both posted on TWG. (The Writers Group) I have also posted on TWG, TIER II, where the writing is much more serious and critiqued very frankly, but will not include them here. I have received positive feedbacks for both of these, and also some constructive comments on how to improve my writing. To be honest, I am not a writer, and have only posted as self therapy. Anyway, here they are, and will let you pick and choose what is helpful or hurtful. Peace,

The first is titled Self Isolation:

Self isolation,

became a way of life.

Fell into a pattern,

a way of avoiding strife.

Pandering for affection,

that was never there.

Looking for that love,

was more than I could bear.

I carry many burdens,

from those early years.

Hurt from lack of love,

and way too many tears.

Learning how to love,

took almost half my life.

That is when I met,

my truest dearest wife.

She taught me how to love,

took her several years.

I’m not a good pupil,

I had many fears.

Walls began to crumble,

could I really dare.

Yes, after all those years,

I found someone to care.

The Second is titled: Wounds and scars, why so many?

I try as hard as possible to not pick a the scabs of my childhood, but sometimes, those scabs got ripped off without me ever touching them.

It happened today as I walked through the neighborhood park. There was this little boy, couldn’t be more than five or six. I had come along too late to know what the little guy had done, but his Daddy was whipping his butt for all he was worth. Screaming and yelling the whole time. “You little shit!! Didn’t I tell you to never do that again?”

Well the scabs got ripped off and the wounds began to bleed. And there was my own childhood all over. But why should I have wounds and scars in the first place?

Maybe because I never once remember being held or cuddled. No, that shouldn’t leave a scar, it’s probably just my bad memory.

I doubt it was because I had moved 5 times by the time I was 5, living in a shack. Three rooms, using two, cause the roof was on the floor of the third. We didn’t have our own well, but we did have the outhouse 6 feet from the cemetery fence. No, that shouldn’t leave a scar, didn’t I say we had a roof over two rooms.

It couldn’t be because I was standing between my parents trying to push them apart as they fought. No, that shouldn’t leave a scar, they were hitting each other, not me.

Might it be the divorce from the crazy man that fathered me. Well only crazy if you consider getting drunk, taking off a boot and knocking out every light bulb in the place. Or kicking my pregnant Mother in the stomach so that my sister had to have her guts put back in as soon as she was born. No that shouldn’t leave a scar, we were good to be rid of him.

I can’t imagine it was the stress of eight more moves between 5 and 11. No, that shouldn’t leave a scar, lots of kids have stress.

Inconceivable it was from the baby sitters sister, who happened to be a total stranger, standing over me with a belt and saying, you will tie those shoes. No, that shouldn’t leave a scar, all little kids have to learn to tie their own shoes.

Can it be from the isolation brought on by going to five different grade schools. No, that shouldn’t leave a scar, I just have a difficult time making friends.

It’s not likely it was my mom’s second marriage that lasted six months. No, that shouldn’t leave a scar. 6 months isn’t long enough to leave a scar.

Probably not an innocent question when I was 8, and my Mothers response was “If I thought you would grow up to be like your Father, I would just go ahead and kill you now!" No, that shouldn’t leave a scar, we all know he was a bastard.

It could not possibly be the third marriage, when I was 11. Hell, I was finally like everyone else, I had a guy I could call Dad. Of course then I didn’t know how sick he was, touching my sister, and my little brother too. No, that shouldn’t leave a scar, he never touched me, only asked to look at my penis.

Presumably it’s not my uncaring Mother that raised an emotional cripple. No that shouldn’t leave a scar, it’s impossible to scar someone without emotions isn’t it?

It has to be true, you can’t scar someone with no emotions. Hadn’t that been the lesson of my entire life. With this thought in mind, I pulled the collar on my coat up as far as I could, and just walked away from that little boy and his furious dad. But as I walked away, I felt another scab forming on my heart.

Wounds on top of wounds, scars on top of scars, why so many?

wow bubbadee, i am blown away (in a good way) by all that you have shared here. thank you so much. we have a lot in common in this regard. i wish you peace and i wish you healing. please consider me a sister and a potential support system on this walk through life!

My scars came from some unknown wounds. After 7 years in therapy, I was able to see that I had been wounded and then put away the pain. My therapist was a psychiatrist, and instead of just handing out pills, he took the time to talk me out of my devastating depression. No medicine, no hospitalization. He knew it was a risk and we talked about it, but I followed his lead and now credit him with helping me to save my life. I was very, very close to a psychotic break. He knew it, even though I was too ashamed to tell him just how crazy I felt.

Now, 9 years later, I have periods of depression, but I also know that I don't have to give in to it.

My point in sharing this is partly to lament the scarcity of effective mental health care. I was extremely fortunate to live in a place that attracts talented doctors who are approaching retirement - that's how I came to work with the brilliant doctor. And I could pay for it it because health care costs were more reasonable - and because the doctor was not in it for the money.

Never give up. There is hope as long as there is breath.

reswolf, Am extremely happy for you. Sounds like you found someone that could actually relieve you from your pain. I was in talk therapy for several years. I don't know if it was the therapist, or just me, but it was torture for me. The days I went in, were the worst days of my week, and usually took me at least a day or two to get over the crap that was brought up during these sessions. I literally cried every time I walked out of that room for two years, except for the last two times I went. By then I had totally given up with talk therapy helping me get over my problems. I know what my problems are, and talking about them does not help. I am on several psyche drugs, and they do seem to help a little, but I don't think anything will ever kill the demons that I carry. Peace be with you!!

i want to thank both of you for sharing your experiences here. i agree with you eswolfe about the lousy mental health care on this country. i think there are spiritual components to mental health issues that most of them do not grasp. i have had so many therapists! and i usually leave them when i realize they are more screwed up than i am!

and bubbadee, i had bad experiences with the talky-talky stuff too. i had one social worker who just wanted to keep dredging up all the old garbage and i was (am) so finished with all that. i am content to let it lie.

the best therapist i had was when i was in a day program at a very good private psych hospital (back in the days when i had health insurance...) she was a trauma specialist and she had my number for sure. in those 3 weeks in that program, i did more healing than i ever had in years. they put me on a lot of drugs tho--3 anti depressants and and an anti-psychotic for the PTSD. it helped for a time. now i use an herbal/ vitamin supplement especially for depression and anxiety and it works well for me.

of course, the old monsters from the past torment me now and again, but i am better able to deal with them. i try to stay as healthy as possible with regular exercise and good food, and when the shadows take me down, i also know how to reach out to others and what i need to do to care for myself then. but i would never be so smug to say i wont ever need help again. that just ain't true!

This discussion left me crying!When I read things like this it helps me realize Iam not along in this horrific chilhood abuse that haunts me and messes up any hope Ive ever had of being'normal'whatever normal is.

I have a family member that has gone thru depression. I try to be supportive and listen. My thought is, try to stay positive. Look for one thing that is going right. Try being grateful for one thing. Look to a bright future. Work towards something positive. Set one small goal. When you meet that goal, set another goal.

Give yourself credit when you meet the goal. Celebrate your victories! No matter what the size of the goal, celebrate it! You are worth it !!!!

I hope this encourages someone.