this is MY challenge

i hope your not one to say"pull yourself up by your bootstraps",because my main problem is depression.
in 75 i began getting autoimmune disorders that lead to several cronic illnesses.ussually my body will go fine for at least 20minute periods,but the real problem is movating myself to do it.
i like the egg timer idea.i think i can make myself do it.
the buckets are good too,but how do i movtivate myself when my entire being is steeped in depression.
ive done/doing the doc/meds thing.too many meds and docs for too long.
i guess im just crying here because i know there are no anwsers.thanks for listening.

depression is terrible. I guess I just have to go back to the old saw Count your blessings. I try to look at something Im grateful for every day and sometimes its every hour. I try to keep in contact with people who can make me feel good and make me laugh or change my "rut" for a few minutes even. for instance I fnd myself doing the same old things every day. So I do something I usually dont do=like switching from my classical music to an oldies station when Im in the house all day. Pulling ones self up by the bootstraps might work for some people but I personally need someone to listen and give me some positive feedback in order to motivate myself to get going. Knowinf one needs to do it and doing it are two different things. The egg timer concept really works for me because i am changig jobs and mabe hats =making myself get up and move around as much as i can and do something different and seeing tat yes I did accomplish just a little today-not by others standards but by the standard I set for myself to accomplish one little job well instead of ten jobs half done.My husband was a country boy whose moto was If you cant do something right the firsst time when will you find the time to do it the second time? That motivates me sometimes. Feeling good about oneself is very important and very hard to do when one suffers from an illness oveer years time. I have found I we it to myself to find the things that make me feel good-that is where gardening comes in for me. Taking part in renewing the earth is important for me. I can look out and see some tiny things that opefully will last for years not just for my tiny lifetime. I can handle or at least stand anything tht comes my way just for one day and tomorrow will have enuf troubles of its own, I only need to work on today and mabe even this hour or this 15 minutes but it is a workable timeframe. When I expect tooo much out of myself that my arthrits doesnt allow me to fufill then I set myself up for dissapointment. Hang in there

thanks marclay,even though ive acomplished quite a bit over the years(backyards a small jungle),im always setting myself up,its good to hear it again,i need feedback,again,and again,reminding me i do these things.
well,for something ai said there were no answers for,you had some great thoughts.thanks.

Glad to talk anytime Shirley

forgot to say,its NOT possible to"pull yourself up by your bootstraps"when refering to clinical depression.its a disease,like cancer,you cant think it away.
im not implying you said that,i just wanted people to know.

I appreciate your input again. I know better but someone might have misconstrued my saying it the way i did. I have been a paramedic for more years then I care to remember amd sometimes take for granted others know too. Take care Shirley

Den and Marclay,
I've never had depression, so there's no way I could ever understand the hell of it. BUT.. I have had an ongoing problem with panic attacks - they started out innocently enough: only once every few days or so. But within a week, I'd developped agoraphobia so bad that I could not leave the house. After a few trips to the emergency room, thinking I was having a heart attack (AT 27 YEARS OLD!!), I learned that it was just panic. "Just" panic - what a joke. There's no "just" about it.

That was one year ago next month. Last year this time, just contemplating going to the corner store could send me to bed in the fetal position. It was panic. I thought I was dying. Thankfully, I had a roomate who was wonderful - she picked up groceries for me, and went to the store for me for coffee and cigarettes and whatever I needed whenever I couldn't go for myself. But I was determined not to spend the rest of my life indoors.

The way I dealt with it (in conjunction with intense therapy) was to force myself to do a little more each day. Being able to go to class was a big issue, so one night (not as much traffic to freak me out) my roomate (bless her) walked me to school. What is normally a fifteen minute walk took us two and a half hours, but I did it. I don't think I've ever been so proud of myself as I was that night. It took another week or so for me to be able to walk to school during the day, but I eventually did that, too. My roomate would go with me to the grocery store (also at night) until I was well enough to go on my own.

One year later, I still get panic attacks (although not nearly as often - at the height of it, I was averaging about twenty panics a day) but... I went to school full-time all last year, held a job with the department I'm studying in, AND resumed clowning on the side (something I'd done for almost ten years, but had to stop when I couldn't leave the house). I'm able to go to the mall, to bars and restaurants, and (this is the best part) I'm now able to walk down the left hand side of the street (for some reason, the left hand side of the street was "bad". Who knows? It's a phobia - it's not supposed to be rational) I even went to Montreal over Christmas vacation, and had a blast.

Anyway, the reason I write this is to say that there's no way anyone can reasonably expect themselves to magically be well again when facing a mental illness. The best you can do is achieve all those small goals one by one. And don't forget to congratulate yourself on them. Because they are GARGANTUAN achievements. Having ONE day where you achieve only ONE small goal, whatever that goal may be, is a good day. And on those days where even HAVING a goal is a problem, make having a goal your goal for the day. I guess everyone's illness is different, so it may not be helpful for you. But man, I sometimes can't believe the stuff I can do now - like walk down the left hand side of the street :) Never again will I take it for granted.

Love and hope to you both,
pisces

You know what? I just re-read my post, and it sounds like some kind of to-do list to recuperation. I don't mean it to sound like that. I know that, with mental illness, sometimes getting to the point where you even want to exert the effort to try can be hard - a goal in itself. Sorry if I sounded like a self-help group.

still swimming,
pisces

its all good pisces!all you say is true,and as long as ive been at it i still forget.
im proud of you for getting it together so quickly.i didnt take it as well,instead i became a careear drinker/druger.i was 21 then,now im 47,and i have 5yrs sobriety under my belt.reality catches up with you.
shirley,your the second paramedic ive met on the net.
i cant imagen the stress.your good people.

congratulations on your 5 years-I have 31 years this month. I wasnt always a preaccher and a paramedic=but the things I experienced in life-including the death of my husband when i was 44 of alcoholism made me the person I am today. I became a parmedic because thre wasnt any in our 400 sq miles of mountain at the time and I try to pay back my debts to others for the goodness that has been in my life. Dont mean to sound sanctimonius but i am a firm bekiever that when life hands us a curve we can grow from it-arttitude makes the difference, Everytime I get adversty I start looking for the lifes lessons in it-sure cuts down on struggle. Pisces I am so proud of you-how much youve grown and it was so hard for you I knoww Noone can understand the struggles you dealt with-thank God you had a good friend to help you. Friendship is one of the greatest things this old world has to offer. Priceless.

Cogratulations!!!46 here/7 sober and clean
Clinical depression//funny it be mentioned, as my doctor just diagnosed me 2 weeks ago, and here I thought I was just in a rut. I've never felt such nothingness..no drive..no energy...nothing..it's hard to explain(for me anyway)I am thankful that I have my dogs, because I have to get up and do for them, and since I've been taking the medication, they(my dogs) make me smile a little more and more again. sometimes getting on the puter and talking helps too
Sandy

Have y'all noticed how alcohol/drug abuse often goes hand in hand with mental illness? I wonder if it's the chicken and egg cycle? Do we abuse because we're messed up, or are we messed up because we abuse? My therapist told me last year that the one and only tequila binge I've ever had (although it did last about 2 months) was probably a big instigator of the onset of the panic attacks.

And to all of you - congratulations on your sobriety guys! I've never had a huge boozing problem, the other stuff - well that's another story. It's tough. Contrary to popular belief, it's more than cutting the demon out, it's changing your entire life. You guys have changed your lives. Most people don't have the strength for that, so when you feel all [deleted], and that you can't do anything right, and that life just sucks, and that nothing you do is worthwhile, REMEMBER: you have changed your life. Most people don't even take the time to reflect on the fact that a life-change is possible. YOU have not only recognized the need to do that, but you've [profanity removed] well gone and done it. That's pretty worthwhile, and it speaks volumes about the resources of strength you all have.

pisces

Thanks everyone =needed some encouragement tonight.

My 5 cents: 63 and now 12 years sober and 10 years mostly free of chronic depression from teenage years. Once an ambulance EMT! Many years of therapy to little effect, only reinforced that there was something wrong to fix.

How did I do it? Gave myself up to a higher power, changed my life's patterns and preprogrammed interactions, and finally felt free of the choo choo train in my head of negative thinking (oh poor me).

Thanks all for sharing. A special fellowship of the depressed of mind and dispossed of spirit.

Congratulations Marshseed on your 12 and 10 years. Only someone who has been there can understand. The sun is shining beautifully today-the birds are singing-I have a third greatgrandson who may make his entrance into the world by this evening and for this moment life is good. I have learned what one writier has called the "sacrament of the moment"

let me go out on a limb here and say were all artisticly endowed too??

Goodness no Den I dont have any talents in any direction except prehospital medicine and I guess that isnt aan art. i can preach with no notes for any lenght of time but that comes with many years experience. Couldnt draw a straight line=am mind boggled by anything electronic=can ply the piano with one hand only because thats the way I taught myself when I was a child. Artistic no-just ordinary run of the mill countrywoman. But it sounds as if we do have some folks here who are??

Just a hello to everyone who posted on the forum since it started-the weather has been lousy over most of the country and my bones have felt every tiny change and Im sure all of you have also-thinking about all of you, But the sun is shining here at least and Im itching to get out there and try some of the good things Ive learned from you all.Thanks One question? raised beds-everyone has a different system???

I respect and appreciate the progress everyone who has posted here has been able to muster. I hesitated to post because I am still at the bottom of the well, and don’t expect that I’ll have an upbeat finish to my message.

I am amazed at how many people here are also struggling with depression. I had an amazingly productive first 35 years, then crashed. I thought I was just grieving the loss of a relationship, but it didn’t stop. I wasn’t able to function in any way. My life fell apart, and, six years later, it is still apart. The most frustrating part is after the periods when I start to believe that I might just get it back together and be able to function normally – support myself, keep a house that I could have people into, maintain friendships. I might even get up and going a little, but it doesn’t last. It is the disappointments that are hard to take – moreso because of the people who are also hoping for me.

Meds or no meds is a hard choice. I’ve been on 3-5 kinds of medication at a time, maxed out on clinical dosage of all of them. With standard meds, I am not in emotional pain constantly, but then I have no desire to do anything at all. Without the meds, I want to do things about half the time (though completing any task is rare), and the other half is grief – literally. It feels as if my heart is breaking all the time. Maybe that is too much of a confession for a place like this, but that description occurred to me recently, and it is the best way I can find to explain how it feels. Faulkner wrote, “Between grief and nothing, I choose grief.” When I first read that, I had no idea that my life might one day be reduced to that choice.

So, I finally left the city, where expectations seem higher, but the isolation in the country is hard to bear.

I only had one brush with substance abuse a few years ago. I was living in another country where I ate at a bar every day. After a few weeks of this, I realized that I was gritting my teeth to get through the morning before my first beer. I also realized that I had been drinking more, to the point that I was drunk after lunch every day. It wasn’t too serious, because I was able to stop cold. But I did peek over that cliff. Much of the really useful advice I’ve collected has come from people who are applying it to addictions: Just getting through one day at a time, or one task at a time. It is hard. Sometimes, I feel like hope is my biggest enemy. I have to keep it in check and focus on what is do-able before the next crash.

Reading the challenges others have been grappling with is heartening. There are so many similarities in dealing with depression and dealing with physical disabilities.

This thread gave me the idea to do a web search on depression and gardening. I’m still sorting through what came up (lots of unrelated stuff), but here is an interesting site about gardening with Attention Deficit Disorder. Some of the ideas seem useful: http://www.baltimorepsych.com/gardening_with_ADD.htm

Living in the country does allow me to get outside and grow flowers, which is a tremendous boon. I really had no idea that so many people experienced this the same way.

I’m very impressed that depression was brought up and accepted here as a disability. I have found it difficult to get much understanding for that point of view. Den, that was a brave step. And, Shirley, I really appreciate that thoughtfulness and empathy you expressed in your response.

I think this thread is a credit to this site and the people on it.

(((paris))),
im sorry for your pain,and thank you for your kind words.
ive taken all the meds available,and combinations too.
i think i settled on prozac in the morning,and trazadone at night.a good nights sleep makes a world of difference.
i also have been as high as 4 differend meds a day,i recently stoped all that and feel better off for it,ya just feel [deleted].

i love that site so far,i think i garden just that way.
ive killed so many plants over the years,and its very rewarding when your yard really starts looking like a garden.
i wish you well in your search for peace.it often happens that way.from what i know,something like a broken relationship is all it takes to trigger a mental illness.

never heard of folk art shirley?
i rearly get a straight line either,i bet you got more talent than you know.

Hi everyone. I am glad too that we have recognized depression as a disability in gardening-the fact that intentions are good and meanwhile needed things dont get done is so true for me and it is debiltatiing mentally and physically. The desire to have a beautiful garden and yet knowing there are days when nothing is going to get done . Sandy I am so glad you have your dogs-living alone I know what the companionship of my dogs and cats means to me . Corky is off to the vets in the AM to have her spaying done and then I am off to emergency management type conferences till the weekend-home one night then off to a weeks conference again-she will be in the kennel.Pisces snd Paris I wish the best for you both. It is a long struggle.When I made the decision to rtire from my church and cut back to almost zero runs on the ambulance all within six months time I lost a major portion of my daily wexistence and identity. Depression set in big time.I decided to return to gardening so I could get some feeling of accomplishment back into my life and also because I love the earth and its bounties.A good portion of the year I am looking at the terrible destruction left behind by tornadoes,hurricanes.floods or airplane crashes. After weeks of that it becomes"normal" to have houses upside down and blown apart and cars filled with mud and yards and gardens mud pools and peoples lives and dreams sitting on the curb wairing for the trash pickup=so looking at the natural order f things keeps my life in perspective. I have found intense moments of beauty in the rustling grass of the Kansas prarie and the big skies of Montana and the green mts of Virginia and the lonely beaches of the Outer Bank of NC=all in the midst of working disasters there. So in my back yard I hope to create my own little bit of beauty.Long talk here on a Sunday morning.Yes den heard of folk art-lived thru the sixties and beyond. Harry Chapin was the only artist I ever would go to see in concert-cried like a baby the day he died on that Long Island Expressway. Ever hear his long song on life A Better Place to Be?

never was much with titles and names,i just enjoy the music.
sounds like youve had a very busy and constructive life,for me,that would be a pretty good idenity.
im trying to think if preaching could be considered a art form.

Darn patooting preaching is an art form! It's more than getting up in front of people and reciting some pre-written ramble! I've studied sermons in more than one English course, and some of them are really works of art. Jonathan Edwards (although I consider his dogmas to be a little suspect) was a wordsmith. Poetic. The work of a preacher is art on so many levels - in the creation of the sermon, in the delivery of it, and then in the "aftermath" when the audience is not just watching the "art" but participates in it by giving it a purpose, in giving it meaning, in being a part of the reflection of it that makes the whole thing "real".

Our definitions of art can sometimes be a little confining, I think. I consider alot of stuff that I do to be art: clowning, tending my precious cacti babies, taking a photo that has a deeper meaning than just preservation of memories (even with a 35mm camera!), writing a letter. Heck! I even created a "sculpture" the other day out of dishes my roomate had just washed! It sat on the counter for 2 days, and was magnificent (until we needed one of the pots for rice...) Art is anything you do that has a deeper meaning to it than the obvious. Gardening is an art.

pisces

Hi Pisces Tell me about your clowning. My best friend who died of cancer in 1996 had a clown ministry she was the activities director at a big long term care facility and she and another lady really enjoyed their clowning. They did it everywhere they could. Her partner got up at her memorial service and told how much it eant to them to see the laughter in childrens eyes and te joy in the patients faces where they appeared. That is an art form. Thanks for the good words for preacher. Im afraid Im only a country preacher-I always preached to myself for what I needed for the week and the congregation after-seemed to work for others I found too. The church has become commercial in many ways-one of the reasons I decided to retire. I sat beside the lake this morning and read Francis Thompsons The Hound of Heaven again-refreshed my soul and spirit. I take pictures too but only with cheap throwaways-noone ever sees them but me-of all the beauty I see wherever i go to disaster-thats what I want to remember and the strength of the people I meet there.It seems as if when I really get in a blue funk the phone rings and I get deployed somewhere where people have lost it all and that brings me back to reality. Art can be as simple as a sunrise in Florida or a sunset in Ottumwa, the face of the newborn kitten or the wrinkles of my 105 year old friend who can still laugh even if she cant do anything else. Den I understand you raise orchids=that takes a lot of patience and knowledge-may I ask how tht came into your life? When I went to Puerto Rico I couldnt get over the orchids growing wild in the ditches in the mountain.

see shirley,you are an artist.

i had to have surgury the week my son was born,1980.
before the labor,my wife brought me a large cattlya,in bloom!
i was much more into neglect in thoses days,but it bloomed again anyway.its long gone now,but it served a very important purpose in my life.
its what you said about growing from the curves in our lives.the seed of growth took some time to sprout but sprout it did.

How beautiful of your wife to give you two gifts like that a son and an orchid. I had two in my life=little things from WalMart-gone many years ago too but I didnt have a knack for them-they probably didnt like my cold house in winter.I have all of Rex Stouts books-thats the only fiction I read when my mind geets tired and wants unreality for awhile. I was always fascinated by his devotion to his orchids and his rigidity in setting his and their space that was inviolate. Nero Wolfe of course not Rex.I had a small correspondence with him before he died-the letters are lying around here somewhere and I always associate orchid growing with genius.

Orchids and joy. Now that's a nice combination :) Never had any orchids, but my cacti are all remembrances - of situations more humorous than heartwarming, though. Ah, but that's another story...

My history in clowning began as all good things begin - with a cute boy. I was 20 years old, just moved to Ottawa, and had no job. My roomate and I were involved in the Flower Relocation Program, which entailed (I'm now ashamed to say) going into peoples flower beds at night, carefully selecting a few stems from each bed, and making bouquets which we sold in the downtown Market area. We also told bogus runestone "fortunes" on the street ("I see that you have quarrelled with someone close to you. Lay aside your pride and make amends. Blah blah blah")At best, we were creative. At worst, well... that's probably low on the list of reasons why I'll be going to hell :)

Anyway, this *really* cute boy (remember, I was only 20 - cute boys were my entire world) busking on the street asked me if I wanted to be a clown. I said, "I've wanted to be a clown my entire life." So, the cute boy got me a job at this clowning company he worked for. Ta da! Instant clown! I later took some courses, fine-tuned the art, and made it a part of who I am today. But at the time, it served two purposes: it paid my rent & kept me in coffee and cigarettes; and it allowed me to meet a cute boy. What more could a wacky Maritime girl in the big city ask for? It sure beat selling fortunes on the street and stealing peoples' flowers!

Today, clowning is in part (again) about the cash. I'm a poor student with some filthy cactus and cigarette habits to support, and people will pay exorbitant prices for a clown. But it's also about the healing. Laughter is the one inexplainable human function. We don't know why we do it, and it sets us further apart from other creatures than even our opposable thumbs. And it heals us. So I do the charity gigs, and it feels good when I can give some poor kid a few hours of unadulterated joy - and sometimes grownups,too. The strangest gig I ever did was in a maximum security prison. It was some type of "family fun day", and I was there, ostensibly, to entertain the kiddies while Mom and Dad had some quality time. Precious few kiddies showed up, and those that did wanted to spend their time with Dad. I ended up sitting with the men whose families didn't show. One of the saddest things I ever saw. They just didn't show up. I couldn't imagine. So I hung out with the guys, smoking cigarettes (a regular Krusty, I am), and talking. Strange days indeed! And it all came out of a desire to meet a cute guitar-playing busker. Ahh... I love fate. It's always doing its fate-y thing.

Okay, enough about me and clowning. I could ramble on about it all day long. Time to tend the cacti!

pisces

Orchids to you Pisces. Im sure youve brought a lot of joy into peoples lives .Im not too old to remember good looking boys. Life does have some funny turns in the road. But for you it sounds like the turn was a good one. flower relocation-is that where all te flower children got their boquets. I know members of a commune nearby who do believe that anything that grows belongs to everyone and has no real owner. Thats a conccept that could be bounced around a bit. Like saying noone really ever owns a cat-they own you if they so desire. Keep the laughter flowing . The scenes at the prison must have been rending-ive often visited jails and prisons and the "Ill hold my head up no matter what"attitude of those there hurts just to see. Bravado? cockiness? Pain? We all live in prisons of some sort and we all wear costumes and faces that fit the moment. That is one of the pains of depression=putting on a face for the world.

My thought and prayers are with everyone here.

I have been there done that and lucky that medication worked for my depression. I no longer need it now and fortunately never was a substance abuser. I did have a bout with an autoimmune disease that totally disabled me for a while and took 4 years to recover from. I am now told twenty-some years later that I am in the minority for complete recovery, only 5% of those who get dermatomyositis recover 100% and go into complete remission. My thrapy back then was having a greenhouse and growing bedding plants. It was my dad's therapy as well he had just gotten over lung cancer and found to have emphysema.

puttyrat

why do you think your going to hell pisces?no specifics,its just a life long subject with me.the whole concept.
we had a hell fire and brimstone preacher that i would call a child abuser.i believe he abused me with his sermons.
wierd huh?

Not wierd Den every preacher is indeed a product of his own genes learned behaviour and pain/ Inflicting ones pain on others sometimes makes a preacher feel better. I know some. We have a joke in emergency medical services which says all new partamedics go thru a period when they think theyre God_I always said "having been a preacher first I have aalready done that" For me being a preacher Is meeting people first where they are NOW with acceptancce and a willingness to listen learn benefit and know them and moreso to offer myself to them in openness and love. I cannot serve a God I cannot be willing to see in Everyman. Sorry you had a bad experience with one of a different type.Puttyrat What a joy to experience healing from that disease and to know that gardening helped both you and your Dad to cocpe and recover.

puttyrat,i suspect you bonded with you dad pretty good.
your recovery is wonderful.
im in a minority too,im in 1%of smokers who dont get addicted,so i dont smoke.thats something.

Puttyrat, how wonderful! I do believe that puttyrat also deserves some psychic Orchids. Shirley, can you throw in an order for her? And I haven't heard Sandy say that she's received any recently either. We should rename this forum the Orchid Donation.

I'm certainly walking down your alley when you talk of the problems of "ownership". It's insidious. When we can own living things (like cats and dogs and plants), it's a short road to owning people - which we still do, even barring slavery. The prison system is just one extreme example. North American justice (in both Canada and the US)is a popularity contest and fun house of revenge. We have a new God now, and his/her name is Media. The prison system (so alike in both countries) is a heartbreaking objectification of humanity. "They" are not like "us". Therefore, we feel not only justified but compelled to objectify them (perhaps to assuage our own guilt?) When we begin to objectify, we create distance between ourselves and the object. By living in the world objectively, we now own other lives. So much pain, and revenge the only solution. I rant, but I'm as guilty as everyone else. But this is turning into a political rant, and before I know it, I'll be raging over the death penalty, so here I end it.

Den, that quip about hell was just a turn of phrase. I'm not REALLY planning on it - but if I was, Flower Relocation and bogus fortune telling would be the least of the reasons why.
I'm so sorry that you had such a bad experience with organized religion. It's a two-headed beast, religion is - all religions are. On the one hand, they can provide us with community, a raison d'etre, a spiritual path. On the other hand, they can also be used for social control, to empower one individual over another, and to justify horrendous evil (like the frightening of the child Den with hellfire and brimstone). Yuck. My favourite "hell passage" is in _A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man_ by Joyce. In it, this priest goes on a twelve page rant about the nature of hell and eternity. It's vivid and beautiful and scary as ... hell. :)

Shirley, you must be some kind of saint to be able to meet people in the way you do. That is the furthest from objectification I've ever encountered. A heaven-sent carriage full of orchids to you. Your acceptance of people and their reasons why is evident even in your postings. You must be one fine person. Glad to have met you in electroland!

pisces

Thanks for the kind words pisces. i guess I felt a lot of rejection in life from the time i was old enought to know my well to do birth family walked off and left me in the hospital because they wouldnt stand the scandal associated with an unwanted child. The nurses in the hospital named me Shirley after guess who. It was 1937-nnone cared-they gave me to a man and woman who had no children and were already middleaged. Somewhere that tiny baby cries still inside over the homeless rejection. my first bed was a cardbord box and I wore the clothes of the next door neighbors three month old son and used his extra bottle. Long rant here too but I cam with nothing Ill leave with nothing and in between I nly want to treat people with the acceptance they need-a very wise person told me long ago Meet people where they are at the moment-dont worry about where they were even an hour ago and Ive tried to live that way ever since. It works and Im always learning from eveeryone I meet or talk to-everyone has something to give and something to share if we can only take the time .Im glad to meet all of you here and yes sandy and puttyrat need orchids in their life today and may they get them.

All your wonderful posts! The messages are clear: spirituality, acceptance, and community are great healers. I just want to reemphasize that gardening is great therapy, was and is my great solace and connection to that Oneness where we are all save and sane. Aside from prayer and gardening, laughter is also the great healer as Pisces demonstrates in forum and in life.

Hi Marshseed Yes there are some fine people here. I feel good about being able to share bits and pieces of my life , And yes as den pointed out in starting this thread depression is a disabler. Yesterday I caught myself laughing at some thread that contained some whimsy and i thought I dont think Ive laughed in days.I caught myself a little while ago in the gardenbed pulling weeds and talking away to the plants about their need to grow now because I was going to be away for several weeks in Texas doing disaster work and I didnt want them to die while I was gone. Great therapy-of course someone might have thought I was crazy-anyone else talk to their plants?

I haven't put forth anything on this thread, though I have known depression and I am currently fighting a battle within myself. I am sometimes so sick of having to think before I do things that I have done all my life! Anyway..

Yes, Shirley, I talk to my plants all the time, and I give the weeds holy hannah for messing up the beds that I don't have the energy to clean out! Be safe on your mission to Texas. We'll be waiting to hear from you.

And to the rest of you, I value this discussion. I am trying very hard to work my way through being in denial about my limitations and looking for ways to be productive. I've always been very involved in our dairy and it's hard to back off and say I can't do that anymore. But I have made a beginning and am finding ways to take up the slack in different areas. And the gardens, messy as they are, are a very great comfort indeed.

Let us continue to support each other for a very long, and productive, time

Kathleen

Hi Kathleen Thanks for sharing with us. i hope you win the battle you are fighting within. Im glad to know someone else talks to their plants-and their weeds and struggles with their limitations. I guess when I realized I was getting old that struggle began for me. I was always active-raised a big garden family of ten kids- and when I realized I had to cut back I hurt inside for the lost energy ad optimism and and yes even hope that had fled somewhere down the corridors of the years. My heart is forever seventeen but my body doesnt know it. The dairy business is demanding hard work with little letup or time off for oneself. i posted on the farm forum last week about the struggles I saw in the Dakotas aftr the floods destroyed crops and indeed kept them from ever being planted. A farmers work is never done and the work of farm wives is surely never done.

I talk to my plants all the time...I even talk to the bugs and mice/voles, my chickens, the local roadrunner and numerous snakes I bring onto the farm site. I actually yell at the quail who see my market farm as Club Med, useful for dust baths, free lunches, and great playground for their coveys.

I am of two minds about getting old. What I most resent are the increasing physical limitations -- I remember my grandma's bad arthritis as I see mine progressing. But I really appreciate the basketfull of knowledge, some wisdom, and appreciations I bring to my final years. My children love and honor me, my friends honor and support me, my work is still fullfilling and fun. So I can't leap tall fences, barely even climb them...but I know where the gates are and I have plenty of time to go through them.