#1162
Time passes and events, those that are notable, pass
with not sufficient record, some stamp in time that says
ah, yes, that is when that occurred. Birthdays do this. One is
a year older. That’s a mark. An indelible one. That accrue
with time. Are all birthdays a celebration? Sometimes they are
not.
But I am not speaking of those kinds of events. The one
I speak of now, at this moment, is a passing one, as they
all are. But record it I must. Somehow. It is not celebratory
but acknowledgement. In what way I cannot be sure. But
I know that record it I must.
Those of you who follow this blog closely will know that
I have proclaimed myself a recovering depressive. Not
yet recovered this is true. Depression bedogs me still. How
soon will it cease to do so, I can’t say.
My life, my actual lived life, the external one for all others
to see, is undergoing a transformation, a transfiguration.
Even my wife says that. But this is a different thing. Something
others can’t see. Can’t know of. The depression lifting
from me has only occurred through a physical change.
I think that few, if any, physicians would know what I am talking
about. I don’t for a moment think that this physical change is unique.
How could I say that. But it is rare, I know that.
It began at the back end of 2012, almost imperceptibly at first.
When it began I knew something significant would, was happening.
I didn’t question what. There is no need. Some things we just know.
So, at that point, I said to my wife, “I am going on a journey and I want
to take you with me.” She didn’t say anything. What she thought I don’t
know. I have never asked. But I knew it would be difficult for her. To understand,
as this process began to gain momentum and real bite, what it is. To
explain defies word. Even here I doubt I shall try. Let it be enough
to say that the lifting of the depression and the physical change are
intertwined, inseparable.
So why am I writing. To mark what? To mark, that as of last
night and still with me this morning, is a sense of freedom
I don’t ever remember. And only depressives will understand
what it is that I am talking about.
But I mark it. With this great, biggest thought. That having crossed
this threshold, if that is what it is, there is no going back. Once gone,
that that denied me the freedom I now know, will not come back.
I know that.
Malcolm D B Munro
Tuesday 18 October, 2016
