Friday 20 February 2009

What am I supposed to do?

I explained to her that I had no parents.  She inquired how long they had been dead: then how old I was, what was my name, whether I could read, write, and sew a little: then she touched my cheek gently with her forefinger, and saying, "She hoped I should be a good child," dismissed me along with Miss Miller.  The lady I had left might be about twenty-nine; the one who went with me appeared some years younger: the first impressed me by her voice, look, and air.  Miss Miller was more ordinary; ruddy in complexion, though of a careworn countenance; hurried in gait and action, like one who had always a multiplicity of tasks on hand: she looked, indeed, what I afterwards found she really was, an under-teacher.  Led by her, I passed from compartment to compartment, from passage to passage, of a large and irregular building; till, emerging from the total and somewhat dreary silence pervading that portion of the house we had traversed, we came upon the hum of many voices, and presently entered a wide, long room, with great deal tables, two at each end, on each of which burnt a pair of candles, and seated all round on benches, a congregation of girls of every age, from nine or ten to twenty.  Seen by the dim light of the dips, their number to me appeared countless, though not in reality exceeding eighty; they were uniformly dressed in brown stuff frocks of quaint fashion, and long holland pinafores.  It was the hour of study; they were engaged in conning over their to-morrow's task, and the hum I had heard was the combined result of their whispered repetitions.  Miss Miller signed to me to sit on a bench near the door, then walking up to the top of the long room she cried out--  "Monitors, collect the lesson-books and put them away!"  Four tall girls arose from different tables, and going round, gathered the books and removed them.  Miss Miller again gave the word of command--  "Monitors, fetch the supper-trays!"  The tall girls went out and returned presently, each bearing a tray, with portions of something, I knew not what, arranged thereon, and a pitcher of water and mug in the middle of each tray.  The portions were handed round; those who liked took a draught of the water, the mug being common to all.  When it came to my turn, I drank, for I was thirsty, but did not touch the food, excitement and fatigue rendering me incapable of eating: I now saw, however, that it was a thin oaten cake shared into fragments.  The meal over, prayers were read by Miss Miller, and the classes filed off, two and two, upstairs.  Overpowered by this time with weariness, I scarcely noticed what sort of a place the bedroom was, except that, like the schoolroom, I saw it was very long.  To-night I was to be Miss Miller's bed-fellow; she helped me to undress: when laid down I glanced at the long rows of beds, each of which was quickly filled with two occupants; in ten minutes the single light was extinguished, and amidst silence and complete darkness I fell asleep.

7 comments:

  1. Your friend who said to "Suck it up", is he really a friend? That's not my idea of someone being supportive or caring. That's insensitive and stupid, and he is of course, incorrect. No one wants to feel bad, and if they do, the feeling bad would make them feel good, so even then the statement is bullshit.

    Hang in there Hannah. It's a stressful time, but you are making the right choices by trying to talk to people about it. You aren't on your own as long as you are writing,

    Lola x

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  2. I really despise the "suck it up, you're only sad because you want to be" attitude. It usually comes from people who don't think depression is an illness and call people weak for suffering from it. I don't understand that way of thinking, the brain is an organ same as the liver, nobody would tell you to "suck it up" if you had hepatitis would they?

    I think you are very strong to have coped so well on your own, Hannah. You're under a lot of pressure by the sound of it but you've done the right thing by arranging a doctors appointment and all that. I wish I could give you an answer to your question, but I asked the exact same thing on my blog too :( I wish I knew what we could do to stop the pain.

    Take care,
    Nick

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  3. Lola - yes he is my friend but he's not really very helpful as you can tell! And he's definitely not being supportive, I guess a lot of people just can't help with this sort of thing. Thanks, and I will keep writing, I think it helps.

    Nick - You're exactly right there, this guy did once say he didn't think depression as a mental illness existed, he thinks it more just being a bit sad. And I like your analogy. Well hopefully the pregnancy issue will be sorted one way or another on Monday. I guess a lot of us are searching for the answer to that, maybe someday we'll discover it. Let's hope so anyway! Thanks.

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  4. Hi Hannah,
    i third the feelings on the "suck it up" attitude...a person such as this has obviously never suffered clinical depression and the torment that it brings. i am sorry you feel so alone...i do as well. So. There are two of us.

    Please take care of yourself,
    tracy

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  5. Sometimes it makes me feel a bit better that I'm not the only lonely one, but sometimes I really wish that no-one else could feel that pain because it's truly terrible as I'm sure you know. I'm sorry you feel so alone too.
    And thanks, it's really nice to hear that other people don't think i should just 'suck it up' so thanks. Take care of yourself as well.

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  6. Are you feeling any better? I really wish I could comfort you Hannah :( I know how terrible it is and I'm sick and tired of being alone.

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  7. Hey Nick, thanks for being around, I know how tough things are for you at the moment. I'm feeling a little bit better, just trying to get through each day really. But please hang in there and take care of yourself as well. I just keep thinking that loneliness has to go away eventually - surely it has to.

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