Does it rain in the waste land?

when i wake up and go out at five in the morning and it is raining, i feel happy and it feels like fairies are kissing my face. now in the pitch dark of night it is raining and while my house sleeps and everyone in it but i, the rain is like a constant friend who patters down with solidarity.
i cannot sleep though i did at ten but my insomniac little two year old woke me with needs for 'drink mummy' to which i dragged my wretched body to supply him with such then never recovered to sleep and instead made a reluctant return to the facebook planet and deleted 20,000 emails from an account i hardly use but still do occasionally.

i am in the recovery room from a good three weeks of depression.
i tell you, i have only just accepted that i suffer from this blight.
so far i have excused it away but i now gladly and fully recognize the strength of it ...... it's like a slow tidal wave slowly and ever so surely dragging you down to the salty and unoxygenated depths to taunt you with tombstones and futility, regret and failure.

i have suffered with this since i was a child though i can't now put my finger on what age.

a sister in a recent fall out described me as having always been -damn i can't remember the word, but is is damn unflattering- like basically a miserable witch- but i sort of realised in this time that actually i have been battling depression most of my life and when i am a miserable witch, it is usually because i am struggling with a thousand voices clamoring in my head.

i wanted to write when i was depressed just to give voice to the black treacle like invisible vapour that engulfed me with an irrational and unreasonable hatred of this life but i couldn't bring myself to go near a computer so i just dragged through each day making sure my children were fed and clothed and schooled.
i couldn't summon a smile for any one and saw this as an unnecessary exertion of vital energy, which i still feel is correct. having been always a smiler, i do now believe smiling should be for special occasions.

i am trying to think of the word she used to describe me to me, so rather than think, i will type my way to it, its like grimy....mangy ....moany....miserable....whingy.....groany....i can't find it! erm, it's there, on the tip of my tongue, on the outer layer of some part of my brain, whore...no that's not it , but connotations are valid,...... you have always been a ......grangey.....manky, no......ok. thats it a 'rude cranky bitch'

now, i don't think i like to hold grudges as these are horrid little bricks to carry round. but actually i find it hard to let these words, so articulate and specific, go. i think i may have said 'why do you have to be so perfect all the time?' and this was one of the responses i got,....'run around and hide behind service to others so you can excuse being a rude cranky bitch all your life'

anyway that told me!! i have spent much of my life trying  not to be a rude cranky bitch so sorry sis if you got the brunt of it.

any how to return to matters of interest i lost my big sis, our big sis, and now it's me and then my three younger sis's and it's odd not having my big sis there as a buffer, another sister from what i see as the same sides of the track to me. the same bedroom, the same dancing classes, the same kitchen in the same place we grew up. wasn't perfect, but it was.

sisters can be strange things. other women who we are related to by amazing chance and yet not often any real connection. a lonely thing sometimes.

Anyhows. Rant over.the rain is still falling opinionatedly outside my back door into the black garden. the night is old and tomorrow is another day.
thankyou dear ether for absorbing the innards of my brain.

I do exist,
as do we all.
tiny wheels in the cog of this perception
Each shouting dreams or insisting on our position in this crowded place.
It rains
as it will forever more
for all we know.
does it rain in the waste land?