As High As I Can Go

little girl swinging


I took this photo while in South Carolina, just a few days prior to being on the coast. This little girl was attending a “super-hero” birthday party in the park, but took a break to swing. Isn’t she adorable?

I’ve been fighting a deep, dark depression for, well, my whole life, but this particular “episode” has been going on for quite a long while. Longer than normal.

Even being with my hubby and my dog at one of my very favorite places in the whole entire world ~ the coast of Georgia ~ did not get me out of my funk.

This past Thursday night, our last in the area, we went to The Island (St. Simons, for those of you not from around those parts) and had dinner at a restaurant on the Pier, then walked around. The almost-full moon twinkled on the sea, and the light from the lighthouse spun slowly around, guiding ships away from the barrier islands.

We sat for a while on a convenient bench next to the winding path right next to the ocean. When we got tired of bugs using us as a snack, we wandered down to the playground. The gate had been closed for the night, but it wasn’t locked, so I opened it anyway and went in.

And sat on the swing, and swung, swung, swung. My view alternated between the giant, ancient oak trees that gracefully cover the picnic area, and one bright star above me in the sky.

I thought about the kids’ laughter I’d just heard, how free and unselfconscious they are. I thought about how swinging feels like flying. Like freedom. How infinitesimal I really am, when I look at that star ~ or actually, the light it flung toward us millions? billions? of years ago. How insignificant my problems, when I look at the oaks that have been there well, hundreds and hundreds of years.

And as I pushed off the ground to go higher and higher, I thought: what’s holding me back from actually reaching the star of my dreams?

The answer? Me, of course. I’m letting myself get mired in the mud of my own depression. I’m getting stuck in the dark hole, afraid to look at the light. Afraid to reach for the stars.

So I stuck my feet in the hair, pushed my head back, and let the wind and the force of my legs take me as high as I could go.

More ramblings / other posts you might want to read...

dSavannah

About dSavannah

~ disabled #spoonie fighting numerous, chronic, painful #InvisibleIllnesses ~ when my brain & body cooperate: #writer #editor #artist & #bibliophile ~ also #feminist #ally
This entry was posted in art, artist, childhood, depression, dreams, happiness, hell, illness, love, mental illness, perseverance, shining a light, the dark places. Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to As High As I Can Go

  1. Gale Martin says:

    I loved this post, Debbie. So brave and plainspoken. I wish you weren’t grappling with this condition, but I can tell you–from experience–there is light at the end of the tunnel.

  2. This is beautiful, Debbie! Swing IS like flying, and like childhood and all the weightlessness of childhood dreams. I’m so glad you had this experience under the stars and moonlight. And I’m glad you’re talking about it, because talking about the darkness makes it less powerful.

  3. jlgentry says:

    We can all learn a lot from watching kids and giving ourselves permission to let our inner children out to play. Go play Sav!

Whatcha think? Tell me, tell me!