Wednesday 17 June 2009
Redux
The route to and from the doctor's surgery is familiar 'though less-travelled these days. As I walk along familiar pavements I consider his words; 'If there's one thing I've noticed about you in the months I've been seeing you, it's that you're one hell of a fighter. I have no doubt you'll sort this out.' He was referring to my recent redundancy but it is not that which I think of as I walk home. The doctor is a good man. He has kind eyes, a kind voice and has been a kind and steady presence in my recovery from the cruel depression that swallowed me last year. I am grateful, and I am flattered by his words; that such a good man thinks well of me is heartening indeed. I vow to lend truth to his words and leap the hurdles ahead.
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3 comments:
That is wonderful progress!
Having been visited by the Black Thing twice in my life, I surely do understand what a true depression puts a soul through.
I would never have imagined it to be possible, back then, but these days I actually see some value in having gone through those times.
Glad to hear things are better.
Things are better now, I hope?
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