LaDonna, I know you feel disconnected, but I cannot tell you how connected I feel to you at this moment. Whenever I feel some kind of way, inevitably you pop into my In Box to eloquently explain my own emotions to me. I'm also a US immigrant who lives in Portugal (moved here March '24). I recently flew back to the states because my 18yo daughter was found unconscious in her apartment (thanks to the quick actions of concerned friends who busted in her door). Turns out she had a brain infection (encephalitis) likely from a mosquito bite. Such a random horror to endure.
Her first three days in neuro ICU she was unresponsive. Did not sit up, open her eyes or move. Then, slowly each day, she became herself a little more. She is now out of the hospital and recovering well. She's coming back to Portugal with us next week to do her speech and occupational therapy in a place that can offer the slower pace of life and natural beauty she needs. Since you have a daughter, I know you can imagine how stressful this all was... and how, after she was released from the hospital, I was finally able to release my fight or flight response and crumble. I am overcome with daily panic attacks, and beat myself up for not being here, even though I know, logically, this could've happened anywhere. But I can't stop thinking: after her recovery, does anything even matter anymore?
Reading your post gives me comfort that it's OK to feel like everything is shitty in the world right now EVEN THOUGH I should just be celebrating that my daughter is alive and OK. I feel like I don't have the right be be depressed or down in any way with the miracle we were just given and yet... I'm enveloped in saudade. Anyway, thank you for your words. They always hit at the right time.
Heather, thank you so much for your kind words and also I am so sorry for what you've been going through with your daughter's sudden illness. That is absolutely terrifying. No wonder you're having panic attacks. Sending you lots of love.
I'm sending you virtual hugs. I'm going through some difficult things myself (family end of life issues) and I know that people sending me hugs actually makes me feel a bit better, silly as it may sound. For a moment it's just less lonely to know that I'm being thought of. I hope things continue to get better for you and your daughter and that you both can just breathe again.
Yes, to all of it yes…you are the only writer I read that makes me catch my breath. You, we, all of us are not alone. Thanks for something meaningful to ponder. Hugs if you need them otherwise a high five for writing it like it is!
A short read through previous comments shows just how much your writing hits us all. You have a way, a gifted way, of putting "it" down, something I (we) can feel/have felt. For your words, and your shared wisdom, I thank you.
Thank you so much for sharing this. The timing couldn't have been more perfect for me. I too just feel exhausted and weighty and it's not depression, it is just a part of being human as you so elegantly stated. With Gratitude for you and for sharing your gifts generously. All your compassion is making it's way back to you. Muito obrigada!
Let’s hear it for the melancholy-leaning souls of the world. We may look like we have our act together but we function a bit differently from the happy-go-lucky people of the world. I completely relate. But it will pass.
All of this, for all of us. This intimate writing is the definition of relating to self and to one another, and all the animals and humans on the earth who are suffering with and without us. I grew up knowing friends who had mothers who retreated to dark, mysterious bedrooms for hours on end. We all knew something wasn't quite right, but coping with the silent strangeness of it all meant the suffering was shared and something, someone was spared. Sharing your perspective helps us all cope with something today. Also, I must heartily thank you for introducing me to the unforgettable concept of "grief bacon." Its implication supercedes any language. I needed that today.
I feel you. But I do have some actual depression mixed in. My life is enviable; I live in Portugal with beaches, pastries, and sunsets, but here I am. Tired, burdened by all you listed, and depressed. But reading this today has made me feel less-lonely. Thank you for your brutal and articulate honesty. Hugs.
Your words always touch me more than you know. But this one, especially so. Oddly, I've been feeling the same, and trying to figure out why I have no energy. Or lust for life. Which is totally unlike myself. Is it that the 9 month Portuguese class is coming to an end and I'm just exhausted from that? Is it because I'm in my 60s and it's an age thing? Sometimes I feel uprooting my life and moving to another country makes day to day living so challenging, just trying to accomplish basic everyday life tasks, and being frustrated with myself for not communicating better. I find it so difficult (and exhausting!) to seek out and nurture new friendships. But necessary. Yet, I know I don't put the effort into it that I should. Thanks for being honest, and making it okay to voice our feelings. In the end, we're all just human and need to allow ourselves and others some grace. Thank you. <3
The exhaustion of being an immigrant, especially a new immigrant, is quite intense. That part does get better as time goes on. But it's a real thing. I'm glad you're giving yourself grace.
Thank you for vocalizing (on the page) the sometimes exhausting challenges of living. We are in extraordinarily difficult times. As a non-historian, I hope that humanity and civility will persevere.
In the meantime we hug those we l9ve (2 and 4 legged - or sometimes with fewer limbs). And take care of our bodies and minds as best we can.
Alice, I don't think anyone has ever described me as "cheery" at any point in my life, but "beautiful and raw" is absolutely what I'm going for in my writing, so thank you.
LaDonna, I know you feel disconnected, but I cannot tell you how connected I feel to you at this moment. Whenever I feel some kind of way, inevitably you pop into my In Box to eloquently explain my own emotions to me. I'm also a US immigrant who lives in Portugal (moved here March '24). I recently flew back to the states because my 18yo daughter was found unconscious in her apartment (thanks to the quick actions of concerned friends who busted in her door). Turns out she had a brain infection (encephalitis) likely from a mosquito bite. Such a random horror to endure.
Her first three days in neuro ICU she was unresponsive. Did not sit up, open her eyes or move. Then, slowly each day, she became herself a little more. She is now out of the hospital and recovering well. She's coming back to Portugal with us next week to do her speech and occupational therapy in a place that can offer the slower pace of life and natural beauty she needs. Since you have a daughter, I know you can imagine how stressful this all was... and how, after she was released from the hospital, I was finally able to release my fight or flight response and crumble. I am overcome with daily panic attacks, and beat myself up for not being here, even though I know, logically, this could've happened anywhere. But I can't stop thinking: after her recovery, does anything even matter anymore?
Reading your post gives me comfort that it's OK to feel like everything is shitty in the world right now EVEN THOUGH I should just be celebrating that my daughter is alive and OK. I feel like I don't have the right be be depressed or down in any way with the miracle we were just given and yet... I'm enveloped in saudade. Anyway, thank you for your words. They always hit at the right time.
Heather, thank you so much for your kind words and also I am so sorry for what you've been going through with your daughter's sudden illness. That is absolutely terrifying. No wonder you're having panic attacks. Sending you lots of love.
Thank you
I'm sending you virtual hugs. I'm going through some difficult things myself (family end of life issues) and I know that people sending me hugs actually makes me feel a bit better, silly as it may sound. For a moment it's just less lonely to know that I'm being thought of. I hope things continue to get better for you and your daughter and that you both can just breathe again.
Thank you. It does help. Sending hugs right back to you.
Yes, to all of it yes…you are the only writer I read that makes me catch my breath. You, we, all of us are not alone. Thanks for something meaningful to ponder. Hugs if you need them otherwise a high five for writing it like it is!
Eva, thank you for the hug and the high five and the beautiful compliment. I treasure it.
Thank you for this. You have a gift for capturing the beauty and the weight of the world, which is a mixed blessing.
Beautifully said and oh so relatable. Thank you for putting words to my own saudade too.
Wisdom. This.
A short read through previous comments shows just how much your writing hits us all. You have a way, a gifted way, of putting "it" down, something I (we) can feel/have felt. For your words, and your shared wisdom, I thank you.
Thank you so much for sharing this. The timing couldn't have been more perfect for me. I too just feel exhausted and weighty and it's not depression, it is just a part of being human as you so elegantly stated. With Gratitude for you and for sharing your gifts generously. All your compassion is making it's way back to you. Muito obrigada!
Let’s hear it for the melancholy-leaning souls of the world. We may look like we have our act together but we function a bit differently from the happy-go-lucky people of the world. I completely relate. But it will pass.
All of this, for all of us. This intimate writing is the definition of relating to self and to one another, and all the animals and humans on the earth who are suffering with and without us. I grew up knowing friends who had mothers who retreated to dark, mysterious bedrooms for hours on end. We all knew something wasn't quite right, but coping with the silent strangeness of it all meant the suffering was shared and something, someone was spared. Sharing your perspective helps us all cope with something today. Also, I must heartily thank you for introducing me to the unforgettable concept of "grief bacon." Its implication supercedes any language. I needed that today.
What lovely and brave and compassionate writing! So relatable. Your word "weary" fits, and, for me, it comes as grief. A grief that can be exhausting.
Yes to the grief. And there's so much of it these days, isn't there?
I feel you. But I do have some actual depression mixed in. My life is enviable; I live in Portugal with beaches, pastries, and sunsets, but here I am. Tired, burdened by all you listed, and depressed. But reading this today has made me feel less-lonely. Thank you for your brutal and articulate honesty. Hugs.
Hugs right back at you, Laura.
Dear LaDonna,
Your words always touch me more than you know. But this one, especially so. Oddly, I've been feeling the same, and trying to figure out why I have no energy. Or lust for life. Which is totally unlike myself. Is it that the 9 month Portuguese class is coming to an end and I'm just exhausted from that? Is it because I'm in my 60s and it's an age thing? Sometimes I feel uprooting my life and moving to another country makes day to day living so challenging, just trying to accomplish basic everyday life tasks, and being frustrated with myself for not communicating better. I find it so difficult (and exhausting!) to seek out and nurture new friendships. But necessary. Yet, I know I don't put the effort into it that I should. Thanks for being honest, and making it okay to voice our feelings. In the end, we're all just human and need to allow ourselves and others some grace. Thank you. <3
The exhaustion of being an immigrant, especially a new immigrant, is quite intense. That part does get better as time goes on. But it's a real thing. I'm glad you're giving yourself grace.
Thank you for vocalizing (on the page) the sometimes exhausting challenges of living. We are in extraordinarily difficult times. As a non-historian, I hope that humanity and civility will persevere.
In the meantime we hug those we l9ve (2 and 4 legged - or sometimes with fewer limbs). And take care of our bodies and minds as best we can.
Hugs to all
I can relate to this so deeply. Thank you for sharing.
Not cheery but a beautiful and raw read about the human condition.
Alice, I don't think anyone has ever described me as "cheery" at any point in my life, but "beautiful and raw" is absolutely what I'm going for in my writing, so thank you.
Thank you for your writing. You make a difference. - Mark
Thank you for your willingness to be vulnerable with us and share where you are. Sending positive energy your way.