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| A rainbow brightens my spirit in Portugal |
When I was 28, I could scarcely imagine having the self-confidence my daughter has. At that time, and at
various times throughout my life, I have struggled with depression and feelings
of worthlessness. When I think about
this life long condition rationally it is ridiculous. I am a very functional person. But of course, feelings of depression and
even elation have little rationality by definition. Back when I was a young woman, I
lacked in self-confidence. In retrospect
that was quite typical of young women of my generation who were not encouraged
to have meaningful careers – let alone in science or engineering. In addition to my concerns about being able
to support myself in a male dominated field, as a single woman, I worried that I was incapable of living my life
alone. To make matters worse I knew I
wanted to be a mother. Not that I lacked
for lovers during my twenties – just that none of the men I met seemed like
husband or father-of-my-child material. I
planned how to live my life as a single career woman – even coming up with a
scheme to have a child and be a single mom!
Remember this was long before artificial insemination existed.
I didn’t end up facing life alone, since soon
thereafter I met the supportive man I married. That
was 34 years ago and we are still happily married. But curiously, even after all these years and
the joy of two wonderful children, a good career and a delightful, extended
group of family and friends, I still suffer from intermittent bouts of depression.
I am more experienced at recognizing the
early symptoms of depression, and knowing how to behave – perhaps as a result
of help I received over the years from mental health professionals. Nevertheless, when a wave of sadness washes
over me, at that moment, I still feel almost helpless…as if I was once again the 15-year-old
girl sitting in her bedroom in Philadelphia wondering how to face the next day.
In all honesty, I am usually happy. But, here and there, feelings of loneliness
and emptiness engulf me. Once present,
these feelings won't leave me. I don’t think I am alone in
having feelings of sadness and loneliness.
I think many people have these feelings.
I try to remind myself that I am healthy and very much loved by my
husband and family. But none of this
matters when I feel the deep sadness of the world surround me. I feel as if I should be able to shake the
dark mantle but at times I can’t.
So I sit with it. I try to behave
as if I wasn’t sad. I listen to
music. I read a good book. I eat healthy food. I get exercise – perhaps I go for a walk or a
bike ride or to my gym. I visit with my family and friends. I wait the sadness out.
Earlier this year, when I was skiing in Park City, I went to
see Judy Collins in concert. She is ten
years older than I am and a gifted singer – her voice rings like a bell even at the
age of seventy-five. I didn’t know until
recently that she suffered for years from depression. This knowledge gave me a connection and even more
affection for her. She has written many
songs but the one that speaks about how to manage sadness is a favorite, the
Song for Judith. I will repeat the
chorus here:
Open the door and come on in
I'm so glad to see you, my friend
You're like a rainbow, coming around
the bend
And when I see you happy
Well, it sets my heart free
I'd like to be as good a friend to you,
as you are to me
This chorus encapsulates how I feel about my husband, my
children, my friends and my siblings.
They have seen me through many a difficult time. Sometimes they didn’t even know I was down in
the dumps since just having them come in the door brightened my mood. I love the idea of a rainbow coming around
the bend. When we were biking in
Portugal, on the worst, most rainy day, after we were safely in our pousada and
warm and dry, we ventured out for a walk.
The sky was clearing and we crossed the big praça and there in front of
us, shining over the old church was a beautiful rainbow! It immediately brightened my spirit.
After biking in Portugal, my sister and I and our two husbands
visited my 89-year-old uncle and aunt who live in the south of France, in the
foothills of the Pyrenees. Their village
is so small it doesn’t have its own bakery.
In summer, the baker from a nearby village brings his truck to the town
square to deliver bread but the rest of the year you have to drive 12
kilometers to the nearest bakery. My
uncle and aunt moved to this village from London in 1985. The village is beautiful – consisting of fifty
or more ancient stone houses and a stone church set into a rocky, forested landscape. Over the years, both my family and many other
family members had the great fortune to visit them for summer holidays.
A few years ago, the village won the title of Village Fleuri
– or Village in Bloom – a recognition granted to villages and towns in France that
have more and better flowers than other villages but have also demonstrated
respect for the environment and a value for social cohesion. It is an honor to be named a Ville or Village
Fleuri. More than ten years ago my aunt
spearheaded the village transformation into a Village Fleuri. Even today, the village is always in bloom –
geraniums, roses, lavender, endless annuals and perennials decorate stone terraces,
balconies, pots and beds.
This visit was bittersweet for us. Three weeks prior to our arrival my aunt
suffered a debilitating stroke that resulted in complete left-side
paralysis. She is living temporarily in
a rehabilitation center in a town almost an hour’s drive away from the village. My uncle is predictably sad but coping
magnificently. We visited my aunt
regularly during the week, reading poems, doing crossword puzzles, helping her
eat – a difficult process given the paralysis.
We wheeled her outside to see the pond and ducks and recited long
forgotten nursery rhymes together. My
aunt is an independent and capable woman.
She is determined to get better and return home. My uncle and his children have plans to
modify the handicap inaccessible house to accommodate my aunt’s wheel chair and
to build an accessible bathroom. Perhaps
my aunt, at 89, will never walk again – but she is going to do whatever she can
to return home.
Having lived through the aging and inevitable deaths of my own and my husband’s
parents, I have to quote my mother: “Old age is for the birds.” It is hard to see my aunt and uncle, who have
been an inspiration, both philosophically and intellectually to me (and many
others), have to deal with the challenges that old age presents. The good news is they have lived a wonderful
life and to a ripe old age! They are in
a village where they have lived for many years and where everyone looks out for
each other. Even the mayor takes as part
of his duties the monitoring of older people’s health in the village. It is the French way. The bad news is that they are getting even older. Despite his age, my uncle regaled us on the
way home from the clinic one day with the full history of Vichy France and
President Charles De Gaulle. His
knowledge was far broader and greater than mine. He cooked us delicious rabbit stew with bacon
and onions and sat on the porch expertly finishing the difficult crossword
puzzles in the London Times. He and my aunt represent a generation that
changed the world. We can all learn a
lot from them.
This generation, our parents’ generation, grew up in the
Great Depression and fought World War II.
In the face of great adversity, they put their heads down and worked to
make the world a better and safer place.
Soon they will all be gone and we will be poorer for their
departure. There’s a reason why Tom
Brokaw called them the Greatest Generation. They are a hard act to follow. Perhaps with our children’s help – and a
little help from their friends – we’ll figure out a better future for the world. Along the way I hope to figure out how to deal
expeditiously with any future moments of depression. I plan to continue exercising regularly,
eating healthfully, keeping my mind active, helping others and spending time
with my friends. I look forward to that
figurative “…rainbow [,] coming around the bend.”
