Reasons You Shouldn’t Fuck Kids


Reason #37: Depression
January 8, 2009, 10:22 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , , ,

I couldn’t leave the house today. I had appointments today, but I just couldn’t make it. It could be my agoraphobia acting up, or it could be my anxiety. Frankly though, I think it’s fucking depression.

Survivors tend towards depression. Oodles of studies point to this fact. I know I am not alone in my depression or my anxiety. I haven’t showered in days. I am tending towards self-loathing now.

There’s this poem written by Portia Nelson, called A Hole In the Sidewalk (I’ll post the contents at the end of this post). Anyway, when you read the poem you will understand what I am about to say. I know where I am, and I have taken action. I am going to see a doctor tomorrow for some anxiety meds. Let’s see if they can help.

This is why you shouldn’t fuck kids though. I shouldn’t have to take anxiety meds, and unless some adults in my life taught me that they would use my body sexually when I was in too little a body to stop them, I wouldn’t have anxiety.

There’s A Hole in the Sidewalk
by Portia Nelson

Chapter One
I walk down the street
There’s a deep hole in the sidewalk
I fall in
I’m lost. . . I’m helpless
It isn’t my fault
It takes me forever to find a way out

Chapter 2
I walk down the same street
There’s a deep hole in the sidewalk
I pretend I don’t see it
I fall in again
I can’t believe I’m in the same place
But it isn’t my fault
It still takes a long time to get out

Chapter 3
I walk down the same street
There’s a deep hole in the sidewalk
I see it there
I still fall in. . . it’s a habit
My eyes are open
I know where I am
It is my fault
I get out immediately

Chapter 4
I walk down the same street
There’s a deep hole in the sidewalk
I walk around it

Chapter 5
I walk down another street


2 Comments so far
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Butterfly, may you laugh again soon. As our lives are brief, so should be your sorrow.

Though it feels like the same place, all places change with time like the shifting of the galaxies. Never is your sadness wasted. Your life begins anew tomorrow and you will be that much wiser.

Your lucky numbers are 16, 33, 41, and 72. (Do I sound like a fortune cookie yet?)

Comment by sandma1half

I love that poem. I first read it about twenty years ago in “The Courage to Heal.” It has always stood out as a beacon of light to me.

Mental health challenges are another way of falling into that hole. And we don’t trip or jump in, the abuser, like a time traveler, is pushing us in there.

You are doing a great job of healing. I know it doesn’t feel that way. It never feels that way.

Good and healing thoughts to you.

Kate

Comment by kate1975




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