What doesn't kill you Monday June 11, 2018
As a bit of a last-minute thing I nipped out with my son and collected my dad en-route. We had such a gorgeous hour being shown around the workshop of an older gentleman who crafts bagpipes. He is old school. Everything made by hand, learned from the generation before, it was as though we had stepped back in time and my soul just sang to be there. It was magical! I cherish these moments. It's a time I can really stand up to depression and say "look, I'm doing it with or without you". I felt ten feet tall on the way home.
My phone began ringing on the journey home, a number of calls, and I returned to find three police cars, five police officers, a screaming alarm and a wolf-like dog waiting to search my home. A break-in. His swag bag will keep him in meals for a long time.
For my mental health I was concerned. For my children's concerns I was concerned. But there is choice. There is always choice. Would we be fearful and sad and cry and change the way we live? Yes. All of that. I was scared, we were scared, I cried and we have changed the way we live. I couldn't sleep in my bedroom partly through disgust and discomfort and partly as there was blood and other evidence to be forensically looked at.
And then, a day or two later we took stock. I'd always expected a break-in and I'd always said they were welcome provided we were out. My wish came true, we were out. We were unhurt and we don't need things, they are just things. Beautiful things, valuable things, treasured things, but just things. I could hear my granny "ye cannae take it wi you hen" and I looked at her picture and I smiled, she is still with me.
We had so many messages. Family love, neighbourly empathy, Facebook consolations, a Twitter stranger defiant on my behalf, tiny stuff but so many lovely things that I realised that while our burglar has possibly a lifetime of running scared with zero support and limited happiness, we have unlimited happiness and choices over what happens next. For having one un-invited person in our lives, we had so many others wishing us well. I chose to take that as fuel in order that my friend Depression would merely sit beside me and not on me. It seems this week I'm winning.
Rise up. Grit your teeth and plan how today is going to be. Even if the choice is sorely limited, there is always a choice.
The room above the garage
A Moodscope member
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