My mother has been weeping for more than eight hours at this point. I look at her and I can almost physically feel the pain of her depression, her brutal self-pity. When it’s like this, I’m a balloon tied to an anchor. And the more she cries, the worse it gets because when she feels this bad even trying to feel better seems like a distant and unreachable horizon.
I also want to grab her by her frail shoulders and shake her and yell, “It’s not that bad! Snap out of it! You can change your thoughts! Do it right now, so I can see it and I’ll know that I don’t have to be this way either.”
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floatingflotsam posted this
