Blown Glass on a Mountain Top

I love analogies. Any way to describe in terms that are more concrete than my thoughts I use to explain the nearly unexplainable.

The past two days I have felt like glass. Like those blown glass figurines. Beautiful works of art, SO delicate. I used to love going to Disneyland and watch a glass blower at work. I was fascinated. I'm not even sure if they have that talent on display there anymore.

A few years ago I had an idea for a huge work of art including different colored glass Orbs (thank you Sue!) that would hang from a sky light and cast rainbows around the room. So, I approached a local glassblower to see if he could do this request for me. It was during "Grape Festival" in Nauvoo, Illinois, and he took me back into his studio workshop and showed me bags of purple glass balls. Then he told me, "I'm so busy doing these "grapes" that I don't want to see anything round anymore. It would be easier if I just showed you how to do it." Great! What an opportunity! So of course he taught me how to get the molten glass onto the five foot long blowing tool and continue rotating the pipe, blowing, rolling, and before it got too cool, he taught me how to score it and snap it off of the end. Viola! A glass ball.

He didn't have all of the colors I needed but I did what I could. At the same time I was suffering from Cobalt blood poisoning and could barely use my fingers for anything fine. I could do this, but later learned that of course cobalt blue contains cobalt and so do the fumes in the studio, the kiln and the molten clear lake of glass. Through this experience I learned just how sturdy glass can be but don't drop it. It is extremely fragile. And my turn as a glass blower was brief.

So I have felt a little like a piece of stained glass on a mountain peak, bright when the sun shines on it but liable to fall off the edge and break. A breath of air strong enough and my depression will come back. We are all breakable. It is tough coming out of depression about 90% sure that I'm going to go back into it at any time for whatever reason. The nature of the beast.

I read a study back in 2000 about Cancer and Severe depression. People who had experienced both said that depression was the toughest. Because people can't see it. They barely understand it and it comes labeled "character flaw". Cancer, on the other hand doesn't carry that stigma. There is a huge support base. In depression, what one can't see, is the illness but you're still standing (you'll crash later, but until then it is a constant pain.) People get irritated, they've done their best to bring you out of it, and everyone has a breaking point.

The unknown is frightening. Sometimes I think our bodies would be a better communicator if we were made of fired clay. Chinks cut out here and there, cracks as we age (wrinkles cover that pretty good), and wanting so badly to just crumble into dust. I'm extremely fortunate in that I'm beginning to see depression as a temporary condition. Reading through my blog it is easy to see that I struggle and that it can affect just about every part of your life...but in comparison the good times are more often.

Awareness of that fact is crucial to survival. I don't say that flippantly. It has pushed many people over the edge. I am thankful for my core beliefs, my support group, my husband and daughter. People I used to work with might not even recognize the new Peggy with depression. And when I started a new job the day my dad passed away, these people have yet to see me as "normal" for me.

I've belabored the point. I'm just feeling at a precipiece and a breeze could take me down. Therefore I had to do some real soul searching to give myself a life I could live with, spiritually, mentally, socially and physically. I do as much as I can while still giving everything up to God. I do what I can for that day, this moment, one second and pray that I get through another bout.

"Fragile" now that is one word that I would never have used to describe myself. I was always a Tom boy, in the dirt constantly, trying everything my brothers did, almost. But for now "fragile" is an apt adjective. I look far from fragile! It is so funny. I have huge shoulders that narrow down to two sizes smaller at my waist and hips. I look like a "superhero" That just goes to show that you really can't judge a person by their shape. My skin holds it all in, but I am broken. I would really like a nice long remission to heal. There is no cure, just management and treatments.

I am thankful to all of my friends who have been so accomodating to me, who love me for who I am and still like me. Everyone on this earth is here to learn things. We'll each get the lessons we were sent to learn, not everyone is going to have the same experience but each will get what they need. And with God all things are possible. So let's get up and seize the day, thank God for it, and charge in without fear.