DrDanger1979
Bronze Member
Friends disappearing
I too have seen the same. I think it is partially due not so much to be selfish, but to being self-absorbed. Their own pains, work or lack of such, worries over family, etc. It also seems that many expect it to 'just go away' and when it doesn't as do their 'blues' they don't know what to do.
I wrote a letter to 40+ 'friends' or other ministers. It was a letter requesting help, not just for me, but for others like me. I spoke with them individually afterwords. Many expressed the thought that when someone is depressed they thought they wanted to be alone, that they needed the time.
It reminded me of this poem that I found many years ago:
"MASKS: An Epilogue
Don’t be fooled by the face I wear, for I wear a thousand masks,
And none of them are me.
Don’t be fooled, for God’s sake, don’t be fooled.
I give you the impression that I’m secure, that confidence is my name
and coolness my game,
And that I need no one. But don’t believe me.
Beneath dwells the real me in confusion, in aloneness, in fear.
That’s why I create a mask to hide behind, to shield me from the glance
That knows, but such a glance is precisely my salvation.
That is, if it’s followed by acceptance, if it’s followed by love.
It’s the only thing that can 1iberate me from my own self-built prison walls.
I’m afraid that deep down I’m nothing and that I’m just no good,
And that you will see this and reject me.
And so begins the parade of masks. I idly chatter to you.
I tell you everything that’s really nothing, and
Nothing of what’s everything, of what’s crying within me.
Please listen carefully and try to hear what I’m Not saying.
I’d really like to be genuine and spontaneous, and ME
But you’ve got to help me. You’ve got to hold out your hand.
Each time you’re kind and gentle, and encouraging,
Each time you try to understand because you really care,
My heart begins to grow wings, very feeble wings, but wings.
With your sensitivity and sympathy, and your power of understanding,
You alone can release me from my shallow world of uncertainty.
It will not be easy for you. The nearer you approach me,
The blinder I may strike back.
But I’m told that Love is stronger than strong walls,
And in this lies my hope, my only hope.
Please try to beat down these walls with firm hands,
But gentle hands, for a child is very sensitive.
Who am I, you may wonder,
I am every man you meet, and also every woman that you meet,
And I am YOU, also."
Author Unknown
I've shared this poem with them. Has any of this helped? A couple of people. They have expressed that they now are spending more time with ones depressed or faced with other mental illnesses. They thanked me for opening their eyes. I'm glad others are receiving the assistance.
For me? Still much the same. Being a male, and at one time a spiritual leader, most can't believe that I need assistance. I understand their viewpoint, as hard as it is to accept. Sometimes I rage at the injustice, but I am able to argue with myself, remind myself, that many of these are doing the best they can, or at least the best they allow themselves to understand.
I too have seen the same. I think it is partially due not so much to be selfish, but to being self-absorbed. Their own pains, work or lack of such, worries over family, etc. It also seems that many expect it to 'just go away' and when it doesn't as do their 'blues' they don't know what to do.
I wrote a letter to 40+ 'friends' or other ministers. It was a letter requesting help, not just for me, but for others like me. I spoke with them individually afterwords. Many expressed the thought that when someone is depressed they thought they wanted to be alone, that they needed the time.
It reminded me of this poem that I found many years ago:
"MASKS: An Epilogue
Don’t be fooled by the face I wear, for I wear a thousand masks,
And none of them are me.
Don’t be fooled, for God’s sake, don’t be fooled.
I give you the impression that I’m secure, that confidence is my name
and coolness my game,
And that I need no one. But don’t believe me.
Beneath dwells the real me in confusion, in aloneness, in fear.
That’s why I create a mask to hide behind, to shield me from the glance
That knows, but such a glance is precisely my salvation.
That is, if it’s followed by acceptance, if it’s followed by love.
It’s the only thing that can 1iberate me from my own self-built prison walls.
I’m afraid that deep down I’m nothing and that I’m just no good,
And that you will see this and reject me.
And so begins the parade of masks. I idly chatter to you.
I tell you everything that’s really nothing, and
Nothing of what’s everything, of what’s crying within me.
Please listen carefully and try to hear what I’m Not saying.
I’d really like to be genuine and spontaneous, and ME
But you’ve got to help me. You’ve got to hold out your hand.
Each time you’re kind and gentle, and encouraging,
Each time you try to understand because you really care,
My heart begins to grow wings, very feeble wings, but wings.
With your sensitivity and sympathy, and your power of understanding,
You alone can release me from my shallow world of uncertainty.
It will not be easy for you. The nearer you approach me,
The blinder I may strike back.
But I’m told that Love is stronger than strong walls,
And in this lies my hope, my only hope.
Please try to beat down these walls with firm hands,
But gentle hands, for a child is very sensitive.
Who am I, you may wonder,
I am every man you meet, and also every woman that you meet,
And I am YOU, also."
Author Unknown
I've shared this poem with them. Has any of this helped? A couple of people. They have expressed that they now are spending more time with ones depressed or faced with other mental illnesses. They thanked me for opening their eyes. I'm glad others are receiving the assistance.
For me? Still much the same. Being a male, and at one time a spiritual leader, most can't believe that I need assistance. I understand their viewpoint, as hard as it is to accept. Sometimes I rage at the injustice, but I am able to argue with myself, remind myself, that many of these are doing the best they can, or at least the best they allow themselves to understand.
