Sherbert. That’s usually all I can get out when the world, life and all things surrounding me seem a bit much. It’s been a bit of a sherberty few weeks really.
I just resurfaced from an extensive stint in the valley of depression. Sherbert. What happens in the valley you ask? Well, a mix of things really. It starts with a real negative outlook on life, a complete halt in the desire to nourish and nurture myself and an impressive talent to teleport to the island of isolation. On the island of isolation things can proceed to malfunction in peace and quiet. I isolate because depression is a hard thing to explain and the hardest thing about it is not knowing how to ask for what you need in that space because the depth of your needs are impossible to be met and because they feel impossible to be met, if you ask and no one comes through the disappointment is what sends you over the edge. It would take others to stop their lives and be present in a way that we do not gift each other in this world anymore. A hand holding, hours of listening, a few days of just being there doing menial mundane tasks alongside me like cooking and dishes and laundry and making the bed. I know the valley well by now. I’ve identified the landmarks and the mountain silhouettes.
Just last week I bumped into someone I used to date but didn’t date but did but didn’t actually. I thought we were in something. He clearly thought we were in nothing. I held space. He didn’t. He is now dating someone after he made it clear he wants to date no one. Sherbert.
Delved into some really profound stuff in therapy this week. I have a deep longing for connection and sharing my life but am utterly unavailable. Emotionally and mentally I am making zero effort to help you fit into my life haha! It’s a defense mechanism thingy ma-bob. Sherbert.
I don’t have any grandparents left and I lie awake some nights feeling like a failure because I can’t seem to figure out how to keep all the people I love alive forever. One lifetime isn’t enough to spend the time I need with those I love in-between adulting and silly cultivated time steals the western world thought out for us. It breaks my heart. Sherbert.
So after all these sherberty filled weeks there’s a knock on my door. I first hear my landlady’s dogs call as they do when they come to greet me in morning. My landlady with cup of tea in hand, sling bag, sun hat, walking stick and gate keys at the ready asking: “You coming for a walk?”. At eighty years of age her dogs and her mountain walks are what keeps her young and sane. Her knowledge and love for the land she has lived on for sixty years is never something I turn down to share in. I made a cup of tea, grabbed a hat, slipped on some shoes, tied a warm thing around my waste and off we went. I don’t sommer say no for a cup of tea on a mountain with a fellow mountain goat.
It was the first time we’ve shared the mountain after the fires in December. We had to let the land settle slightly, let the rain settle the soil. Nature needs us not to interfere with her ancient wisdom and perfect nurturing strategies. We are not needed, we are invited.
We walked, talked and wandered for two hours. Dogs in tow. My grandmother reincarnated I sometimes feel she is, shared what the land was like before there was the Cape Point Reserve, before fences, before neighbors, barriers and foreign ideas of what should be wild and what should not. Tales of taking the Landrovers, the horses, the dogs and the kids each with a sleeping bag and mat to go spend stargazing nights in the comforting embrace of the Cape Point mountains.
These are the days I will look back on most and know I spent my time wisely and well. These are the days that made me rich, these are the days I will remember. These are the days that ground me and instill deep thank yous for being alive.
Needless to say the week was no longer sherberty.
