And I Still Don’t Know
Sometimes my darkest moments give me my greatest ideas. But because the Dementors have taken hold of my spirit, I can’t act on those ideas right away.
So I do the next best thing: I write myself a note with the basic theme of the idea. Later, when the sun returns and dissipates the fog of depression, I can review my notes and decide if any of them are worth exploring further.
This is One of Those Ideas
I’m 68 years old; in 5 months I’ll be 69. It will be time once more for me to write a big fat 0 (zero) after my age. The eternal Footman will be one step closer to holding my coat.
What have I got to show for my life? For what will I be remembered by future generations of my family?
Will I be remembered at all?
Will they remember that I was a loving parent who adored her children and grandchildren? That the loss of a beloved pet some 35 years ago even today haunts me?
Or will they curse my name for the accursed genetic heritage with which I have bequeathed — nay, cursed — them?
For that’s the one constant in my bloodline: chronic depression.
And Yet…
My daughters and my grandsons are my legacy, and my inspiration. I am Transgender, and so is my grandson. It is for them that I continue to live, continue to believe that without them I would have long since yielded to The Big Sleep.
Because there are statistics that tell me that children of suicides are far more likely to kill themselves.
And I will not do that to my girls.
“Thus conscience does make cowards of us all.” Hamlet, Act III, Scene i.
If you’ve never felt the cold winds of Depression (with a capital D) blow over you, then you can’t understand that “[y]ou don’t have one problem or problems you are sad about, there is only sadness.” (Source)
And I’m also comforted by something I read on the internet years ago:
So nanny, nanny, boo-boo! I am Officially Exempt™ from having to grow up. And to celebrate, I might just go out and order a Happy Meal!
We in Western culture don’t see many trans elders, and some of that is because society has made lives of older generations so much harder to live as their true selves. I super started crying when I read that you’re trans, as I often feel too old to be “really” trans myself. (This is poison, and I don’t believe it really, but some days…) So thank you for this post. I was feeling really awful (lol, it’s the flu, honest), but this gave me something to feel warmly towards today.
Depression is an awful beast, and I have enjoyed the posts you’ve made since I found your blog, so thank you for fighting the fight to stay with us. Also – forget growing up! I hope you found something fabulous and frivolous to do and hope you’re feeling better soon.
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