An introduction...

Awake, my dear,

be kind to your sleeping heart.

Take it out to the vast field of light

and let it breathe.

                            -Hafiz

Hello blogging world. I wanted to take a moment to introduce myself as it seems that we are about to become very good friends. My name is Cindy. I am the mother of 4 children who range in age from 14 to 7. I was a nurse for 5 years, stayed home with my kiddo's for 5 years and am now in my 4th year working as a reservations agent for an airline. Somewhere during the "stay at home" years I lost myself. I lost my lust for life. I lost what it was that defined me. Loosing myself was an extremely painful process that left me scared and broken. I have been dealing with depression fairly constantly for the last 7 years. I think that I had depressive seasons prior to this, but none have taken hold and settled in to this level.

A friend of mine said that most people who suffer from depression have a particular way of describing their feelings that are uniquely theirs. For me, depression is a larger than life boa constrictor. Bigger than "Snakes on a Plane", bigger than those horrific beasts in "Anaconda". My boa is content as long as it can feel itself wrapped gently around my flesh. As long as I hold still and don't breath too deeply I can stay softly in it's grasp. BUT, any movement, any attempt to free myself results in a tightening of it's cold, hard muscles.

For the past several years I have sat as quietly and peacefully as possible to avoid disrupting this sleeping giant. If I sit still it is only mildly annoying. I can still function, for the most part. I can do those things that need to be done. They are not done with joy, or excitement as this would alert my boa and she would begin the task of tightening just a little more so that I can't escape. But, escape is the one drowning thought that floods my mind day and night, keeping me scattered and unable to focus on anything else. Maybe if I hold my breath and puff up my chest, maybe she won't notice if I slowly exhale and slip away. But in this state, where breathing is the only thing that I know I CAN do, the thought of holding my breath until she loosens her grip scares me. So I sit and wait, praying for relief, and in my darkest hour I feel completely alone. 

But, there is hope. While I have been waiting for my boa to grow tired of me I have read every book that I can find on the subject of depression and mental well being. One book that has been particularly influential is Deepak Chopra's "Perfect Health". This book resonated a truth that felt so inherently natural that I have begun to practice what it suggests. I know that my body wants to function perfectly (this includes every aspect of my body from my head, hallelujah, to my feet). The disconnect comes when I don't listen to the subtle cues it gives and when those cues get pushed aside and covered up with things like caffeine and sugar. Maybe the only way to escape from my boa is to feed her the things she needs, to move gently, to treat her kindly and maybe when the sun comes out again, maybe she will slither away, satisfied, into the darkness.