Kukka by Sally Kilgore: Balm

Fate, TX (September 9, 2024) – I had lunch with a dear friend the other day.

I’ve been kind of absent lately. I know some of y’all have missed me, you’ve told me so. Some weeks the words seem to well up and pour out. Sometimes, as is happening now, the words are hard to come by.

At lunch, my friend said “I’ve been missing you. I keep looking for my messages from Sally.”

I had thought not to write about this. I tend to be ashamed of this condition. But there is a handwritten quote to myself on my desk “Write the truest sentences that you can. – Ernest Hemmingway”

I am in a difficult season right now. I hope the clouds clear soon. Today the sky is clearest blue and cool morning air reminds me that true autumn is on the way. Nonetheless, even with the hopes that spring from deep in my heart, I am struggling with depression these past weeks, a lifeless feeling of despondence.

So many of us experience depression. Some experience it in the forefront for years; for others, it can be episodic thing rearing its ugly head in response to circumstances. I have taken an anti-depressant medication for years, right along with my blood pressure med and the miracle pill that keeps colitis at bay. Nonetheless, recently a combo of life stuff left me wide open for attack. Life is good, but circumstances come blasting in unexpectedly. Events of which I have little control, piled atop normal worries, bring on a tinge of anxious feelings. The worries are stuffed and BAM!  More worries blast in and blow a hole in the fortress.

I start thinking I just can’t do it anymore. I can’t write anymore. I don’t particularly want to play anymore; I start isolating myself.  As an introvert, I most certainly need days alone to clear the jungle of too much activity, to be in the peace of home’s comfort and dwell in quietude. But isolation day upon day is not good for me. I must poke myself, or allow someone else to poke me and haul me back out. These past seven days have been a much better week than I’ve had for several. I’ve been with my people. I reached out to pals I hadn’t seen in a while. And hugs. Human touch is the bomb diggity.

It’s hard for folks to understand, if they have never experienced depression. Life for me is pretty good. Depression doesn’t care if life is smooth or if I’m stumbling. It just leeches onto me, knowing where I am most susceptible, burrows into my deep, tender places and thrusts me low.

The hardest thing is getting in touch with myself and admitting that something is wrong, realizing I’ve been sliding downward. It’s tough to remember it’s not my fault, this is not a shortcoming. I find it difficult to admit the darkness to the people that I love the most. To show that I am vulnerable. Because I’m the one on top of things, one who handles things, one who gets through everything. There are some things I can’t get through on my own, depression is one of them.

I pretty much must whack myself upside the head to remember that I need to reach out and get sustenance from the helpers. My friend and I talked about it at lunch. They poured out their recent struggle, and I shared some of my own. Human connection is the balm that begets healing over the raw places.

To my helpers in this recent struggle, y’all have my love, and my loyalty.  Big love to my eldest son. Overcoming depression and mental challenges are the everyday of his life. He perseveres rather than taking an easier way out. He shows me how to walk the path. We had lunch not long ago, and he encouraged me to call my doctor and check back in.

A friend dropped me a note this past week that reached me in my deepest core. She wrote these words; touching my raw places and giving the world to me: “I am not surprised that things are piling up and there is little energy to get to them. Your heart is heavy. This may be a time to lay all things down for a while. Let your spirit rest…I will be here when the time is more open for you.” This is Grace.  I will tell my friend that her words began the turn around.

I don’t want my dear pal to miss another message from me, I’m going to send this out. It may not be the best thing I’ve ever written, but you know it is from my heart, and the truest words I can write. I’m so thankful for each of you. I hope you know I’m talking to you.

If you are feeling depression, I hope you find a way to open a keyhole and allow the helpers in. Seek the places to pour your heart and keep yourself open to hold wide your arms when someone else needs to pour their heart out.

Find the souls that love you and let them build you up, smooth balm on the sore places. Laugh as much as you can. Hugs are incredible healers.

Ask for prayers. I’m asking for yours.

And always, give Grace.

Sally Kilgore is a resident of Fate. She is married to her long-time flame, Judge Chris Kilgore. Sally’s work has been published in The Dallas Morning News, The Orchards Poetry Journal, and other publications. Please visit and contact her on her website SallyAKilgore.com

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