Depression wants me to harm myself. It says, “Isolate.””It says, “Tell everyone you are OK, then come back so I may abuse you further.”It does not whisper these words; it shouts in my ear. It claws at me, pulls me under for a time. I am rallying; I am fighting. I have things to do. Leave me alone, I am busy. I have workouts to complete, books to read, cards to send, stories to write, dogs to pet, trees to plant, weeds to pull. Medicine to take. Am I drowning? Am I alive? Am I saying any of this aloud?
The Benefits of Half-Day KindergartenCheryl Maguire“Can we go to the library play room and do a puppet show?” my daughter asked.“Sure,” I replied. “Do you remember when we used to come here for story time in the morning before you went to afternoon kindergarten?”“Yes, with Miss Carol! It was so much fun.”I have positive memories of library story time with all three of my children, who each attended half-day kindergarten.
I’m nine or ten years old, in my bedroom, methodically and ritualistically arranging my trophies and awards precisely three and a half inches equidistant from each other on the shelf. My OCD is temporarily appeased. At this point, I have a lot of trophies and awards – one for every team or contest or club or group. In fact, it’s really far more awards than is necessary or really even deserved when you consider participation acknowledgements.