A Conversation for Depression Survival - a Personal Account

Old Wounds

Post 1


It feels a bit awkward, to suddenly write in this digital journal about "old wounds". Even more embarrassing while we have a long and sunny summer in Europe.
It's a pity, that I can't hide my journal of this day between very old ones.

It all shows, that our unconsciousnes "doesn't know time".
Feelings from long ago, remain present in a deep level and by a certain "trigger" they come alive, as if they've always been there.

So, I'm writing about old wounds, at august the sixth, 2003, while the heaven smiles with a strong, sunny sun.
But I emphasize; I am - mainly - talking to myself and writing to myself to get rid of the shit. But because I also use it as a posting, I write in a describing way.

- I live along a very small canal ; beautifull, very quiet and with friendly inhabitants at both sides of the water. It's a place where anyone who like to live as long as possible. I often call it a living poem, in which I have found my home. Also because of the inhabitants who show, that we exist for each other, although everybody lives his/her own life. Especially in summertime, when the small streets at both sides are somehow our "living room". There is no traffic here -

Yet, from the very beginning when I came to live here, there is a small dark place in this oasis.
A man of my age never speaks a word to me, while talking as a maniac to everyone else.
It's even more than that.
It was clear to me from day one I live here, that he is afraid of me and runs by panic into his home, when I walk along the street. That happened nine out of ten times; year after year.
Reaching eycontact and saying hallo to him, succeeded once or twice in the passed ten years.

At one occasion I was in panic, because of a boy that lived above me and became extremely noisy. I ran on the street, spoke from my heart to him - being the only one out - and after responding with one word he bowed spasmodic his head into his newspaper.
Scince then, I ignore his behaviour and the person behind it. Not as a counterattack, but as a practical way out of this sick behaviour.
He would ignore any invitation of me.
I see the fear behind it, and leave it behind me.

But scince a year, I've got new neighbours all around me; above me and next to me. I just live in a one-rome apartment,very close to the street.
And scince that happened "the spastic man" talks now all the way through like a maniac with those who live very close to my place.

So I suddenly can become awake by a "good morning neighbour, how was your holiday?" and so get involved in al long conversation, which is véry hard to distance myself from.
A play in an almost absurd theatre within six meters from my own bed, although no one knows he flees from me and ignores me systematically.
I've never talked about it and won't do so.

The reason, why I'm writing now in my dear Journal, is because it begins to cut open very old wounds.
That's what my sleep tells me...

Sleep always charges (old) bills that are'nt paid yet.(here is some homework to do and I hope, that writing here is one way of paying.)

So in the nightmare last night,I met my ex, by whom I felt totally ignored in the last six years of my merriage.

I met the four ministers in the church where I once worked as a social worker, who never spoke a word to me. And I suddenly lost 12 kilo's these days ,while I didn't understand why.

I met the man, who tried to become friends with my girlfriend (43)in a situation I felt completely ignored for months.

The funeral of my dear sister(4) where I(5) was not present.(probably with good intentions)

I returned home,in my dreams, where I as one of the three "little ones" that did not really matter.
I tried to kill that pain, by splitting myself in two halves and so ignoring the emotional half.
I started to ignore myself...

So I got "The Shadow" as a nickname and that formula would dominate, till I was 35.

Yet, this list of nightmares is NOT an introduction to selfpity, although that does not mean I intend to ignore my feelings again.

Selfpity is never a promising way out.

Understanding my own participation in what happens and happened, does.
So if someone ignores me brutely, it can only happen if I lét that person ignore me brutely. Although a solution is not always simple to find.

Not acting is also acting.

A famous Dutch choreographer in modern dance, Hans van Maanen, is always fully aware of that,when he analyses human situations and makes that visible by his dancers.

By writing here in my own Journal, I do the opposite of what I always did in the passed.
Now I give expression(s) to my feelings.
I am writing it down in the digital world and I am trying not the be ashamed of it.

By writing here in my Journal, I am backing myself.
And maybe it will make me stronger, so that old wounds can be old wounds again and that I can live here in a beautiful, peaceful location, with "only one black spot".

By writing here in my Journal and using it as a "posting" somewhere else at H2G2, it may also be relevant for someone who reads it.

By writing here in my Journal , theret míght stream some fresh air in my heart.
That's all that matters, doesn't it?

Keep breathing, all of you.

Greatings from Amsterdam

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Old Wounds

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