Again I felt the ‘heaviness’ of the last days of the year. Of course it is my mental imagination and illusion. It is the same like the imaginary transition from one year to another.
But I was confronted with feelings of depression and sorrow. Instead of glow I experienced gloom. And ‘knock, knock’, there were the ‘old’ pains of my youth. Standing at the door of my consciousness. And I felt again a shortage of heard compliments. And under that I sensed the deep longing of ‘the child’ inside me. To be welcomed in this world to be just myself. And to be seen with unjudging eyes!
Pain! I had just one day filled with the pains of my soul!
Happily, I told my wife about it. I was open and transparant about what I was feeling. It helped to protect my wife so that she did not feel too burdened by the negative atmosphere around me. And it did give me relief and the possibility to accept myself. Without judging my feelings and thoughts. Just to let me be … myself?
The dogs of doom
Probably it is also because I am taking the stock of what 2018 has brought me. To check where I am standing and what I would like to reach in 2019. And again I am aware that my mind is playing a game of granting meaningfulness.
And suddenly I remember the words which I read already years ago:
‘The dogs of doom stand at the doors of your destiny’. (© Kris Vallotton)
Yes, it is true. My feelings of pain are barking loud. Very loud!
Happily, I can sleep through my heavy feelings. After one good night I can feel reborn and I am again rejoicing my life. But I know there are far more people who are feeling depressed day after day.
Like my good friend Walter. He was diagnosed with manic depression.
He had periods when he was feeling ‘high’ and insurmountable. He was than the ‘star’ in his own story. But inevitable there was always a backfall from grace. In those periods he was feeling ‘weak’ and doing ‘stupid’ things. Like wasting his money. Just by giving it to vague acquaintances with enchanting stories.
Jumping before a train
Four years ago Walter jumped before a high speed train and died. His body parts were found all over the rails to Rotterdam. He left behind a wife and two young kids.
For the driver of the train it was the eleventh moment in his life that this horror happened. Before his eyes.
Again he saw a human jumping from the edge of the platform. And watched helplessly, while he could do nothing to prevent it from happening.
Just this week I heard that a man in his fifties – who is troubled for years by depressions – has tried to commit suicide.
I met him some years ago via a mutual friend. He was found – just in time – in his home by his beautiful and musical talented wife.
But I am asking myself: ‘When will he try again?’ And will his next attempt be ‘successful’? And is it really possible to help yourself or another when ‘we’ are feeling trapped deep downstairs somewhere in the ‘darkness’?
Can there be than a light in our darkest hour? And can its glimpses reach us? Even when it is desperately flickering? Or when it seems to be extinguishing. Just before our eyes?
I felt so impressed when I was seeing for the first time in my life how this little lamp was surviving in the darkness.
It seemed like a little scintillating spark of a star which was fixed with a pendant to the high and unattainable dark ceiling. Shining its very little light of purity in a big empty space of obscurity.
Rest me for this moment to wish you a ‘bright’ New Year with more than 365 little lights which will guide you at your next steps in the unknown territory of 2019. Love you all!
See you soon after the dawning border of the last Evening of this Year!
And thank you all for reading my posts!