Hole in your sock

March 2, 2009

A friend of mine is depressed. She has in my opinion depression. But she wont seek help and most of time she denies the problem. I dislike depression. To me, it feels like a really wasted effort. What good does it do to feel bad, to cry, to sleep, to wig out about trivial things? Seems a lot of energy spent over nothing productive. So I have tried, unsuccessfully , to talk her down, talk her out of being depressed. Don Quixote. She is my windmill and I keep running toward it, believing it will matter this time.  No luck. I love windmills. They are really beautiful in the spring and in a gentle rain.

Krista Tippett, of NPR’s Speaking of Faith, reran her episode of of the Soul in Depression: http://speakingoffaith.publicradio.org/programs/2009/depression/

In it she speaks candidly of her own battle with depression. I sent it to my friend.

She was inspired. She went to the library to look up some of the books mentioned in the broadcast. I am thankful that Hope lives in more than the White House these days. But my friend couldn’t find the book she needed. Because of the subject matter, she was too embarrassed to ask the librarian for assistance. One wasted trip to the library. One close encounter with help -yet to come. Why?

It’s a hole in her sock. We all have them. How may times do we leave the house hoping no one else ever notices the worn spot at the heal of the shredded sock we just pulled on. The hair is good, the teeth are brushed, the underwear clean (at least we learned one thing from Mom), the sock -last to put on, last thought. How many times have we felt secretly inadequate putting on those socks, headed into the boardroom, the classroom, the bank, the hospital. Guess what? We all have them. What if everyone had to go around in their sock feet? Trust me, that loud mouth, fat-ankled boss who makes ten times more than you for having put in ten times less work, is bare as a thread around her big manicured toe-nail. Dont sweat it. She could swoop down on a mouse in a field and scoop ’em up with the knarly nails tearing from that thread-bare, dollar store knee-hi. We all have flaws. We all have holes in our socks.  Some just wear them on the inside of their shoe. Don’t let that make you feel inferior to anyone anytime. Dance honey, on that thin piece of weave that barely seperates your skin from the sole of your shoe. Celebrate it! It makes you more the same than different. Dont trust that everyone else’s socks are clean and solid. Some of us have the same holes, the same flaws, the same insecurities. I have cried myself to sleep more than once in my life. We all hurt. Dance in the big frigging human line dance of imperfection. 

None of us have it all figured out. And I’ll bet if you’d just ask, just get the courage to say “I have a hole in my sock”, more people than you know will stand up and say me too. And you wont feel alone for long. 

I love all the special people in my life and tonight I celebrate all the holes in your socks.


5 Responses to “Hole in your sock”

  1. Laura Says:

    Wonderful first post, Ronnie. And a great way to spend your first say of “spring break.” I heard the same segment of Speaking of Faith yesterday. Fascinating stuff. Didn’t know it was a rerun.

    And by the way, i have some socks that are like, five years old and threadbare (but still wear them) and some that are two months old (and I love it when they’re clean!).

  2. Cecelia Says:

    I have holes in my socks but I’m showing them off tonight in the finest ballet my soul has ever performed, thanks to a wonderful friend and coach.

  3. Kim Eeftink Says:

    Love it! I have holes and I wear them all the time and I don’t care! They work and if people don’t like them, they don’t have to look at me and can kiss my butt.
    This was great Ronnie, you are wonderful. :o)

  4. Brenda Says:

    I just folded holey socks for Josh…Am I a horrible mom?

  5. Bev Says:

    Depression is not something we chose. It chooses us. Those of us who suffer from it realize we feel bad, but we cannot just climb out. We do not choose to put effort into such a painful experience, it is difficult to understand, even for those of us who battle it. Encourage her to seek help, it may have saved some of our greastest talents. Like Hemmingway, Van Gogh or nameless other artists whose sadness is not understood.

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