By R U Bored

Leaning against the guardrail, looking out over the side of the tour boat, I was mesmerized by the sight of the darkness of the night meeting the darkness of the water – merging, in constant motion, into one great, horizonless, hypnotic void. I wanted to be deep, deep, deep inside the darkest depths of that beckoning blackness. My conundrum was – how do I get there? I was caught in a thought loop, trying to figure out some way I’d be able to climb up the railing and jump, or sneak under it, into the tempting, swirling currents below. Never a swimmer, I imagined myself sinking swiftly and peacefully into a painless place of non-existence. 

So intensely focused, I hardly heard my husband’s voice, as if from a distance, suggesting that I step away from the railing. I don’t remember if I did, or not, until we left the boat to go ashore. I remember nothing else about that night – only my aching longing to be free of mortal reality. We were at a conference for his job, a trip I’d been looking forward to for months. And now it had slipped sadly sideways. What happened? How did I get to this sorry moment?

Most of my life I’ve struggled with mood swings and learning difficulties. I went to holistic practitioners, and talk therapy, as well as self-educating, for twenty-some years, with less than desired results. Then, as an at-home mom, and advocate, for three special needs children, I was still struggling mightily to function. Many days, after I got the kids dressed, and fed, and off to school, I’d come home and collapse on the sofa in tears, crying until I could muster enough gumption to wash some dishes or do a load of laundry. I was overcome by my own life. 

One day, once again, sitting there, sobbing, I angstfully asked myself, and the universe – “What else can I do? What is there, that I haven’t tried, that might help me get better?” The instant answer was, “Drugs.” Meaning prescriptions, not street drugs. Oh, no. No drugs, no drinking, no smoking for me. Only rarely did I even drink soda, or juice, or coffee, and then only a little. I had learned, from my body’s responses through the years, to be mindful of my diet to keep my emotional balance. 

Until then I had absolutely refused to take any medication for mental health issues. I grew up watching my mom zombied out, edgy, obsessive, or otherwise messed up on various meds for Manic-Depression. I didn’t want that to be me. But now, out of sheer desperation, I was finally, reluctantly, willing to give it a try. I didn’t know what else to do. I told no one. I wanted to get objective feedback from people about real changes they might notice in me from the medicine, not what they imagined was different because they knew I was medicated. 

About a week before that dismal weekend, I started taking an antidepressant. Within days, the side effects were already overwhelming. Between repeating cycles of crying and sleeping, crying and sleeping, I could hardly function. When I called the doctor, he explained that I was on a blood-level medication that takes thirty days for a true test of it. He said the side effects would likely begin to diminish soon. Debating my options, I decided to keep taking it and still go to the conference. We’d made all the plans, and I told myself I’d be okay. 

But I wasn’t. I cried and slept through all the hours of driving. By the time we arrived, I knew I had misjudged the punch of the drug’s continued effect on me, and I needed to tell my husband what was happening. I felt it wasn’t right for me to keep it to myself any more. I thought it just wasn’t fair to him for me not to let him know why I was behaving so strangely. He deserved an explanation. I told him. He was so angry. Enraged. He thought I just wanted all of his attention, that I was intentionally trying to keep him from participating in the conference. I was so shocked to hear him say that. I had no such motives. I simply wanted him to be aware. Obviously, he did not understand the hell of desperation I was in. His reaction only added to my misery. I felt so abandoned. And alone. And afraid. 

There was a shopping outing planned for spouses and guests of convention goers. I decided it would be better for me to go than to sit in the motel room alone. At one of the shops, I saw a greeting card I liked. But it was in black and white, and I thought I’d like it better in color, so I put it back. But I kept thinking about it as I went on shopping. Then I thought, “I can color it myself.” And I hurried back, at the last minute, to get it.

The picture on the card is a sketch of a wooden-shoed boy, in peasant shirt and vest, and patched-knee knickers, playing a violin on a grassy hill, dancing whimsically with animal friends. Underneath, it says, “The power to lift up is stronger than all that holds us down.” I took it home, framed it, and put it up where I can see it often every day. I didn’t color it in after all. I love it now as it is, as it has been – inspiring me for thirty-four years. In fact, if I condensed my spiritual beliefs down to their essence, it could be that simple sentence – “The power to lift up is stronger than what holds us down.” I would change “holds” to “pulls,” because many things pull us down but cannot hold us down if we are Soul-connected. Divine Love defies gravity. 

I didn’t know, when I bought the card that day, that over the next four and a half years I would take twenty-two different medications, for help with Attention Deficit Disorder, mood disorder, and depression. The side effects of all of them outweighed any meager benefits. Rough process. Tough outcome. Then I had shock therapy. Scary. It caused short term memory loss, but helped some with my depression. 

Two years later I started going to classes on esoteric topics at a local bookstore. I’ve been a serious student of metaphysics for almost twenty-seven years now. The people there became, for me, a community of kindred spirits. I finally found my spiritual home, which has made a deep, dramatic, and lasting difference in my life. This kinship, and the teachings, have helped me learn to navigate even the hardest times of my life in practical, effective ways, based on guiding principles and values – and without agonizing side effects!

2025 has been a tough year for many people, with lots of fast changes and unexpected challenges – politically, socially, and financially – nationally and internationally. And whatever personal issues and losses we’ve experienced. It gets oppressive. But I’m telling you my story because I hope it will be a loving reminder that even in our deepest darkness, in our lowest, saddest, loneliest, and most challenging moments, things can come along, so small that they seem almost inconsequential in the moment, but that can have deep, long-lasting, far-reaching positive impact on us. 

Whatever comes your way in 2026, I wish for you to receive many cosmic greeting cards. Lots of heavenly love notes. May you find, every day, at least some small measure of peace, and hope, and beauty – through nature, art, music, words, food, events, friends….When you believe in the power of little things to lift us up, you attract more of them to you. Look for them to comfort, nourish, and encourage you. Find what delights you and let it in. In black and white, and in color. Do it for yourself.

Happy New Year. 

You will suffer and you will hurt. You will have joy and you will have peace. ~  Alison Cheek

The true test of character is…how we behave when we don’t know what to do. ~  John Holt