about depressions and transitions

Is there such a thing as post-surgical depression? If not, there should be. Well, actually, for me there was. I had my fourth major surgery this past June 29, and I spent the summer deeply depressed and isolated. I simply could not pull myself out of it. Nor, to be frank, did I want to make the effort. It felt like the natural course of events, and I allowed myself to be exactly where I was. Other people grew afraid for me. Of course, it took them weeks to say anything. And by the time they said something, I was coming out of it.

Actually, the last post helped me get out of it. It just put things in perspective. I'm limited but not helpless. My brain still functions. My heart has so much love and room in it for more. I have no idea what the future holds, but I am not so worried by the past anymore.

I believe I have ended my previous chapter, turning the page from the "Executive Director" section to the "who knows now" section. And the ending feels good. At last. As I come to terms with the end of my sense of physical invincibility and sturdiness, the reality of my damaged spinal discs, and the ongoing pain in my right hip, I also am able to accept that my old work ways are no longer possible. The satisfactions I once had, the racing around NYC from meeting to meeting, long hours and attendance at fancy events, the wonderful food and fun people, the ego boosts and semi-celebrity status - all that is in the past. I loved it all. I am so happy I got the chance to live that way, to experience all I did, to contribute all I did, to know and work with the people I did. It was an incredible, blessed period of my life.

And it's over.

Now what? Well, I'm in William Bridges' "neutral zone" - which I affectionately call the "dark hallway between the closed door and the door yet to open." I grope about, trying to feel my way along, hoping to happen across the next door handle and half-hoping that the door opens all of a sudden, banging into me and blinding me with daylight and possibility and clarity. And when I recover from being brained, I will know that I am doing what is next, what I am meant to do on my path.

Probably that will not happen. It will be more like me groping about, feeling a door that is slightly ajar, just enough for me to slide my fingers in and pull it slowly open to gradually reveal just the first step on a path that is enshrouded with mist. The visible first step is enough. It's like when I find a nickel or penny or dime or quarter on the ground and take it as a sign I'm on the right path. It doesn't matter if the penny is upside-down - it's currency, and a sign that I am in the current, flowing in the right direction.

All my various fancies and foibles are going on display in this blog. Free at last, thank God, we are free at last!