John Boy Walton And My Soldier Shoulders

I feel the need to do a little clarifying. I want you all to know that I’m not thinking of anything drastic, and I’m not in a horrible state of being. I’ve been down the slope before, and always pulled myself back up. I know how to self manage. I just need to kick myself in the ass a bit. Get back to who I am. So first off, quit worrying!!!! Christ, I can hear you fussing from all the way over there! You’re  giving me a headache. And a small piece of advice: if worry did anything except cause grey hair and alcohol problems, don’t you think the world’s issues would be solved by now?

But. I thank you. I know you love me. And I have had some AMAZING support and dialogue with absolute strangers. And that is why I wrote what I did. That is why I am honest here. Because not one of us confused, lonely, sad, broken little souls is alone. Never think that. Ever. There are beautiful people out there in this world that are strangers one second, friends the next. And you folks that reached out to me? God bless you. Or Satan, whatever is your bag. Thank you. I will pay it forward.

Anyway. Day4 into a balls ass, week-long yoga intensive, from the women I took my first classes  from. Kundalini and Ashtanga. Chanting, singing, topped off with singing crystal bowls to cleanse the chakras even further. For me, it’s a no makeup, no chemical whatsoever, clean eating week. Okay, maybe I stink a bit, but hey.

So this depression deal? I can’t say when mine started. Probably in childhood. So much legacy I was handed. So much baggage that wasn’t mine. That and the fact that I was the odd duck. I didn’t look like everyone else. I had a big brown John Boy Walton mole on my cheek. Can you guess what the kids called me? Yup. You got it! First try! Kids can be sonsabitches, can’t they?

I was taught to hide very early on. Hide your feelings. Hide the truth. Hide who you are. Hide what’s going on. Hide from the pain, the embarrassment, from the wrath. Hide from God. Hide who you are. Quick! Hide!

Well.You try being 5’10”, skinny as a rail with a big mole on your face. (I always wished I was a petite blonde. Still kinda do. Anyway.) Can’t hide. Too tough. Still stand out.

I felt like everyone knew everything anyway. They most likely did. I was taught two things that stayed with me.Totally affected who I am.

Shoulders back, tits out, stomach in, chin high. Soldier posture. Soldier on. Shoulder what is thrown at you, don’t bend or sway. Buck up, Soldier!!!

Consequently, I’ve ‘pretended’ I could handle a lot of what was shoved on me. I’ve dusted myself off, when what I should have done is lay there for a while, and cry. Ask for help. But not me. I can handle it. Soldier on. 

I was also taught shame. I know shame like the back of my hand. Shame is the heaviest legacy I carry. Shame comes to me as a birthright. Handed down from both sides of my family for generations. I was born shamed.

This shame has made me rebel, and say fuck this. I do what I want.

This shame has made me hurt myself.

This shame has made me keep others away.

This shame has impaired how I love.

This shame has kept me from you.

No more. 

I have nothing to be ashamed of. I stand before everyone as I am.

My depression is not shameful. It’s a part of my life I didn’t ask for or deserve and I will KICK IT’S MOTHERFUCKING ASS!!!

You can watch. And I’ll help you do the same, if I can. I’ll hold your hand if you’ll hold mine.

The world is a pretty lovely place.

I’ll see you soon. We’ll have a laugh.

4 thoughts on “John Boy Walton And My Soldier Shoulders

  1. I’d say you are mighty brave too. Not many have the courage to lay it all out there.

    We did Spring Forest Qigong in the mountains yesterday. Amazing energy. Come visit sometime and we do qigong together. Much less strenuous than yoga

  2. Yes! I would love to! I have some happy developments coming my way! Yoga, and the desire to be happy, are providing some great things for me! I’ll send you a message as soon as I can. Xo

  3. Ah, how ironic — yoga helped cure your depression, and it brought mine on! In truth, I threw out my back during yoga and spent a few excruciating days with my entire upper torso in a spasm so bad that if I moved a millimeter the wrong way, even my lungs and diaphragm froze up and I couldn’t breathe. It was pretty horrific. Worse, it scared the crap outta my kids. Mommy could barely walk or move or breathe. And lying in my bed in agony, in and out of half-sleeping, depression totally snuck in and grabbed me while I was in this vulnerable state. Fucker.

    Rationally, I knew it was because I was in so much pain (plus all that other yoga nonsense about the hips holding in lots of our emotions, and as it turned out, the spasm really originated in my hip… which, given some of the shit going on in my family right now, shouldn’t be a huge surprise to me, but more on that later…)… and I think it also triggered my reaction to some other personal stuff I’d been only pseudo-dealing with but not really keeping in the forefront of my mind. I guess it all just hit me at once. When you’re trapped in your bed with nothing but your thoughts, well… then you have to deal with those thoughts. And it forced me to vent a torrent of shit at my husband yesterday. Poor guy — there he was trying to help take care of his nearly paralyzed wife, and she spews at him all the shit that’s been lurking in the back of her mind about what’s wrong with her life, her marriage, her parenting… blah blah blah. Nightmare.

    Anyway, am feeling a bit more mobile today and refuse to stay in bed. Just can’t take it. But I’m glad that you are soldiering on in an honest way. It’s okay to keep going; it doesn’t mean you’re in denial. It just means you refuse to be beaten. Being knocked down isn’t what defines us. It’s how or if we get back up, right? I know you know this.
    And I know that you will always get back up because you won’t let this bullshit beat you. You are bigger than the shit that happened to you. And you’re bigger than this depression.
    People who have it easy can afford to be weak. It’s much braver to have a hard life and not let it win.

    Glad you seem to know all that and I’m just being redundant!
    And yes, none of us odd, sometimes sad, ducks are alone. If blogging has taught me anything, it’s that.

  4. Minka, thank you for the amazing comment. No we aren’t alone.(Speaking of which, if you need me, you know where to find me!) And yeah, I am getting much better. It’s the non-stop thinking that gets me. Yoga helps me turn my brain off. And just fucking be! I’ve got a post on that coming soon. Hope you are better soon. You won’t let that sneaky bitch get you either!

Go on. Talk to Mama Duck.

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