When I Feel Very, Very, Very Small

I try to remember that a miracle often comes wrapped as a mistake. But it is as if my head is broken. And it won’t let my heart see clearly.

The other day, for some reason, I revisited the list of possible psychiatrists my therapist, Dr. Jasmine, had provided. It occurred to me that I hadn’t called the medical university practice listed third down from the top of the list. Surely, they might have an opening in the near future, and those doctors would definitely be in network for me.

I called. Someone picked up. The wait-list was long, but I didn’t care. Add my name, I said. And then, after explaining my situation — that I didn’t want to go back to work, that I didn’t care to try anymore, that I was waiting to see another psychiatrist who was out-of-network but who could see me in 2-3 weeks — the voice on the other end of the phone asked me if I could come in the next day at 1pm. Of course (!!).

 

Dee Ashley Epiphany of My Insignificance 2010

Dee Ashley, “Epiphany of My Insignificance”, 2010, Flickr, http://goo.gl/E0Iqac

 

It was a mistake. I don’t mean that meeting with the psychiatrist was a mistake. That was a miracle I absolutely needed at just the right moment. No, somehow a mistake happened, an appointment opened up, and I felt urged to call that number. It wasn’t supposed to happen that way, in the same way that colon cancer isn’t supposed to develop so early (especially in women) for those with Lynch Syndrome. Yet both did. (Happen that way.)

 

“One sees clearly only with the heart. Anything essential is invisible to the eyes.”

–Antoine de Saint-Exupery, The Little Prince, 1943

 

Thinking with a depressed brain is like trying to walk through David Bowie’s labyrinth. It is a maze where every turn leads to a dead-end. Look at the pretty shrubbery, the foliage, the roses, the sunlight streaming down the towering hedge walls where it barely reaches the maze floor below.

It is all so lovely. Until it is not. And that happens quickly with a depressed brain.

I am sad, but I usually tell my friends that I’m just fatigued. “I’m tired – the kids kept me up all night” (which is actually true most days, but it isn’t the reason for how I feel deep inside).

I suffer silently most of the time.

Quiet is a silent suffering under the laughing, starlit night sky.

 

“Where are the people?” The little prince finally resumed the conversation. Β “It’s a little lonely in the desert…”

“It’s also lonely with people,” said the snake.

–Antoine de Saint-Exupery, The Little Prince, 1943

Abhijith Rao Dark Desert Clouds 2009

Abhijith Rao, “Dark desert clouds”, 2009, Flickr, http://goo.gl/UCNNNf

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6 thoughts on “When I Feel Very, Very, Very Small

  1. Unfortunately you don’t need to be depressed to know how lonely it can also be with people.
    A. de St-Exupery is the first author I got interested into. I am happy for your mistake and wish you well πŸ™‚

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