Depression

Picture six weeks of depression. Picture me knowing that it will eventually pass but knowing also how weary I am of this lifelong cycle of depression, no-depression, depression, no-depression..

 

Years ago, when I was experiencing an intense personal crisis, a powerful healer said casually, in the midst of a different conversation, "Would you like me to take away that heavy cloud of gloom you carry with you?"

 

And I, so immersed in the woe-is-me of that moment (and so unaccustomed to the idea that anyone could help me, ever), I said, "Oh, no one can ever take this away. This is too much a part of me. I've had it forever."

 

It was only later that a wise friend pointed out that this healer was actually offering a specific service—and that I could actually have said, "Yes. Yes, please. Yes, please, and thank you very much!"

 

I believe we call that a lost opportunity. For years I have looked back on that as an example of my stupidity and my lack of awareness. I was unable to recognize help when it was offered.

 

Fast forward to last January. Sick with a cold, sick at heart because of . . . because of everything, I found myself contemplating this old experience yet again.

 

But this time was not the same. This time I suddenly realized that if that healer had offered to remove my depression, then the implication was that it could be removed! It was possible to lift the cloud of gloom. I had never before isolated that part of the experience. So my next thought was: here I am, conscious (on one level, at least) that the guides and spirits and teachers of the whole Universe are available to help me. I have only to ask. Well, if my depression was removable, and if I had access to all this help, then why not ASK for the help I needed?  I had, in my ignorance, failed to accept an earlier offer, but that didn't mean that there would never be another opportunity.

 

So I did it, right then and there. I asked all my guides and teachers and angels and spirits to take away the cloud of gloom that had been my lifelong companion. And they did it. It was instantaneous. It was miraculous.

 

Of course, I forgot to ask them to take away my miserable cold at the same time, so I wasn't exactly back to my normal self. But a cold is more bearable, even at its worst, than that gloomy cloud. And I know that things are different now.

 

But let me think. Did I remember to say "thank you"?

 

 

Copyright 2012 Ann Tudor

www.anntudor.ca
http://www.scenesfromthejourney.blogspot.com