Flavia Guarino

A journey through PND



Preparing for the journey ahead

Stepping up to the train platform one more time, the foggy mist of bewilderment rises eerily in the morning light. Life’s trials slowly stretch before me and build clarity in the first rays of the morning sun. I face the prospect of another day riding the emotional train that departs my soul, ritually, each morning. As I adjust to the new dawn I am again reminded of the pain that brought me here.

Every day without fail I stumble aboard the Emotional Express. I stack my luggage beside me, there seems to be no porter today: No one to share the burden’s of yesterday with me. I am no longer surprised that I can’t find him. Swinging a large swag of regrets on my back and lumbering up the steps, I laden each arm with an extra large suitcase of baggage. One suitcase holds a collection of memorabilia; mental snapshots and a cacophony of disjointed fantasies and misconceptions about life and my very own brand of how to deal with any pain that life has jostled my way from my growing years through to the present day. And in the other suitcase…well who know what’s in there but I’d hate to forget something and have to turn back. You never know what might come in handy. I tuck one more little overnight bag of the things that I hold dear, my personal items. I guess the fragments in there represent what’s left of my identity. I hear one or two items rattle around in an otherwise empty bag. I’m sure there should be more…too late now.

I drudgingly take my seat midway along an empty carriage and awkwardly spill myself…and all of my luggage into an exhausted heap close to the window. I stare out the window and notice that the landscape of my life seems to just be a haze in the early morning glow. It passes by at a throttling pace. I write as I ponder; I log the details of the coming events in my journal…

Today I face a journey through the muddy swamps of depression, and it looks like the afternoon will have a torrential breakthrough of tears that will somehow, inadvertently result in a fresh scourging of my soul to reveal, yet another, out of perspective belief about life or myself…

It’s an unpredictable journey through the gauntlet of human emotions I experience, in varying degrees, through Post Natal Depression, divorce and motherhood with a toddler and a newborn. Each change of season illustrates an emotional milestone; a place of victory or defeat. A blustery wind might mark a seasonal change that drives me into a storm of anxiety that is followed by a surreal peace and calm once it passes;

I casually glance over an earlier entry…

A cave of darkness and anger is marked with bubbles of release and freedom; a landmark of victory and yet the track that stretches out through the unknown darkness fills me with a sense of foreboding. Maybe this one will take a few poundings of certain defeat before the hint of victory comes.

From time to time, I gain further insights and more healing as I revisit the journeys of months gone by in my journal. It’s like meandering along a rundown section of track. I venture in with feelings of remorse and sadness at what has been left behind: thoughts of what once was and I am reminded of dreams that can no longer be. This section has been travelled many times and emotional deterioration has revealed areas that need restoration. Like an historic railway line being restored with Gracious and Careful Hands my journal carefully traces the journey and preserves my personality yet, mercilessly highlights the rust and rot; my character flaws and unhelpful attitudes to life, that will only return later on to cause rapid decay somewhere further down the track if not removed properly. Each section of the track is restored by removing layers of weeds and vegetation that have been left to run wild and now, like my thinking patterns, have become overgrown with out-of-perspective beliefs. Just as the weeds that have been fed well have grown strong, so too the thought patterns I have nurtured are the ones that have thrived. With this I reflect on what weeds need to be pulled and as I begin, I must accept that things will never be the same.

The broken rails are no longer capable of heading the engine of my soul in the right direction without it running completely off the track. They need to be pulled up and the unstable foundations built on denial are destroyed. Solid foundations of truth are laid in their place and new rails. These rails are tried and tested. Crafted with centuries of expertise and precision. They are both strong and durable… It comes through wise counsel and guidance. The new rails are securely fixed in place.

Once the way is clear, work on the tangled leads and calcified or rusted engine parts can begin. Years of neglect have seized up so many parts of the engine of my soul. Pieces that have caused life to come to a stand still are revealed. They blow the smoke of confused spiritual understandings, hissing and wheezing the steam of personal anguish and spluttering the ash of distorted emotions indiscriminately over innocent bystanders.

Each test run reveals one part fixed and another to be restored. In and out of my emotional, mental and spiritual repair yard I go. Each time I venture out I revisit past landmarks of victory that give me hope to continue the back and forwards daily routine. It’s a lengthy process and it cannot be rushed. Old parts need to be almost surgically removed where they have been calcified into their static positions. New parts need to be adapted to by changing my own behaviour and I need to learn to function with those new parts in place. To do it all at once would lose the integrity and personality of the engine of my soul. It needs expert attention and the precious crucible of time.

Travel itinerary

Each double page illustration, from the children’s book ‘Mummy, Let’s Go!’ forms a window of revelation, sharing specific emotions in my journey through Post Natal Depression, crisis and loss.
I hang them as I would photos on from any travel adventure. Forming emotional landmarks, they define my emotions: bewilderment, denial, anger, shock, anxiety, despair, uncertainty, healing, hope, restoration, acceptance, resilience and relief.

Like any journey without a tour itinerary mapped out or worse a foreign speaking guide who keeps leading me off the track with mind wanderings and distorted instructions. I notice I cover the same ground many times over just with a little bit more insight or I approach it from a different perspective, until I become so familiar with it that I eventually can navigate my way through it. Somedays I journal. It’s often in the places where I notice a destination has been reached. Some weeks I just ride the Emotional Express hoping to find some bearings that will help me pluck up some courage to continue with determination and I peer out the window desperately searching for any of the ancient landmarks and signs that acknowledge that there is a way through.

Each morning I step onto the same train and as season follows season I see small, seemingly insignificant, changes taking place. Little by little I start to sort through the baggage and boarding the train each morning becomes slightly less cumbersome. As time wears on and certain pieces of baggage are left behind, I begin to see that I really don’t need them for the journey ahead and parting with them seems natural. It’s as though they are tokens that allow my passage to the next level in some twisted computer game.

Some changes happen very slowly, like the wheels that churn almost to a grinding halt as I pass through the muddy swamps of despair and other changes are quick; spurts of hope like desert wildflowers. Through the blur of my pathetic flurry of tears that are signaling impending despair, I come to realise that, the same tears have been the very sustenance that saturated the soil and brought these desert blooms to life. They are now punctuating my landscape of thorns and wilderness. If I am not looking closely I miss them then I wonder how many times I have passed by this way and perhaps not noticed them until now. As I blot the tears I can faintly make out their outline; spurts of colour yellow like sunflowers, burnt orange like a summer sunset over Uluru…and a vibrant scarlet like freshly spilt blood. Together they blend into a growing fire warming my soul…They remind me that there is life.
What is that emotion? It is a fragrance of the elusive and distant.
I vaguely remember now. It’s been quite a while, but is it possible? Could it be hope?

So begins my journey…

Read the complete journal…

Juicy Berries Journal – Journey through PND – Mummy, Let’s Go! © 2009 Flavia Guarino. All Rights Reserved