Last week, for the
I described a
In life, with the good inevitably come the bad.
This isn’t easy to write and may be hard for some to read. I apologize.
Having a disability is already an extra stressor and can bring on times of depression about life. I am thankful, I must say before I continue, that I do not have clinical depression on top of that. Not having that allows the waves of depression and the bad thoughts and days to be outnumbered by what I know is good and joyous about my life.
Describe a bad day:
I am listening to:
as I write this week’s Memoir Monday post about a bad day.
I do this to provide me with some background music, yes, but also to put things in perspective.
Of course I will be giving you a glimpse into what a bad day is like for me.
There are plenty of dark and despairing parts in Tolkien’s tales, if you are at all familiar with that world.
But there are also those bright, cheerful, and hopeful parts and the music reflects both as I write.
I wake up and right away there is darkness, the day is black, but not because I am totally blind and see nothing at all. I still have the little bit of sight I had yesterday and the day before and the day before that.
It’s one of those bad days. They come and they go.
I want to look at myself in the mirror and all I see is a vague outlines staring back at me.
I want to jump in my car and go somewhere: groceries, errands, to visit someone, just drive aimlessly away from the life I am trapped in.
Oh wait! I can’t!
I don’t drive and there is no car other than the one that others must drive me in. The driving I sometimes do in my dreams taunts me when I am awake.
You are no good. You are lesser than, disability, disabled, unable, not at all capable.
You are helpless and you should hide away from others because you can’t possibly fit in, not when you lack the one sense valued above the rest.
You are as much of a burden as they say. Who are they? You know, them. the ones who don’t want you around, as a reminder of those poor blind people who must have a terrible, deprived existence. It’s one people don’t want to look too deep into and you would do best to just stay out of the way.
Stay hidden. It’s for the best.
You are constantly in the way and a drain on others. You can’t possibly contribute in any meaningful way, so don’t even bother trying.
You stand out like a sore thumb and people stare. You can’t see it, of course, but they do because you make them so uncomfortable and they would rather not look, but they can’t look away.
I am a freak.
I push everyone away. Why do people leave?
My blindness. Yes. It must be that. In a way it’s an easy scapegoat.
I have no future and nothing to look forward to, nothing but a dark, black void.
Why do I even bother to hope for something more?
I will lose the rest of my sight and I will be alone with my darkness.
That is how this story will end, as if it’s already been written.
Quote from Stephen Fry:
There comes a time when the blankness of the future is just so extreme, it’s like such a black wall of nothingness.
It’s just nothingness, the void, emptiness and it’s just horrible. It’s like contemplating a futureless future and so you just want to step out of it. the monstrosity of being alive overwhelms you.
Of course this is an extreme example. I have many more good days than bad and the bad days are more like bad moments. the thoughts, they come and they go just as fast.
Next Memoir Monday:
Describe your baseline, or an average day.