THIS TIME I MEAN IT...

See last post and the big "I've therapized myself and all is well" announcement.  Well, it was not that easy.  Not ANY of it was easy; it wasn't quite over yet.  It ended up I really did have to contact my therapist, and being the amazing professional (and just smart and cool woman) she is, NOW I think I'm coming out of a depression that lasted (on and off) since mid-December.  Ugh!

Those who do not experience depression have no idea what it is like and probably just impatiently wish we'd "snap out of it".  Me too.  It doesn't work that way.  Since I try at all times to avoid any meds, and because I have tools and determination and lots of support, so far I have not had to resort to medication.  I just don't respond to it well, as I recall from being on some anti-depressants years ago. But I was very, very close this time to feeling the Depression Monster had won and that medication just might be necessary to keep me going.  Fortunately, my therapist, our couples counseling, many, many long talks with Hub, and the support of a few understanding friends who checked in with me regularly or sent words of encouragement helped me through, and in the past 2 weeks I've started to climb from the pit and see the light again.  

I've stopped therapizing myself for now; not my job.  I was overwhelmed, over-wrought, over-exhausted.  And a lot of things I thought were my fault were absolutely not. I was trying force the real me into a shoe that didn't fit and the pain was almost unbearable.  But the Depression Monster is a liar of Trump proportions -- so effortlessly and smoothly gaslighting me that I became confused, then self-loathing for my stupidity and inability to fix myself, other people, the world, and my life.  I just wanted to give up.  I thought about it. But I didn't.

So here I am, back to...I don't know.  I feel like I've walked through fire and am changed, but not sure how the "new me" will manifest.  For now it's enough to just be grateful.  I feel freer, lighter, quieter, more humble, more compassionate, less burdened, less responsible.  I feel "less" and "more" simultaneously.

I'm sad that I gave up teaching yoga when there were days when I couldn't get out of bed and that my class disbanded.  I'm sad that I may have lost future opportunities to be with certain friends when I "resigned" from a group that had met together for several years.  I'm sad that I had to take such big steps out of my every day life that I sacrificed the good with the bad. I'm sad for me that I was in such pain that much of the past few months feels like a fog even though I was present and walked through my days at times relatively normally.  

AND I take to heart the realization that for over the past 4-6 years, I had loss after loss, disillusionment after disillusionment, grief after grief in all areas of my life and tried to carry on with a smile on my face...tough it out...activist-ing and psychotherapizing myself to cope with it all.  I was burned out, finished, done in so many ways.  Something had to give. One incident broke me, but it was so much more than that.  

I'm recovering from all of it now.  Giving myself space away from every single thing that helped cause the build-up of debris that broke the dam.  I'm continuing to learn about myself, because that's my path. I'm continuing to try to be in connection with those I care about, because I can't imagine not.  I'm learning to protect my inherent sensitive nature, to understand that my brain is wired differently from others' and that's NOT my fault, nor theirs for not understanding me or how I might respond to events that to others are no big deal.  I'm learning to be gentler with myself, my life; learning to lean in to positive experiences and away from those that are disturbing and terrifying.  I'm learning to be, hopefully, more accepting of what "is" and with less attachment to the outcome of any of my efforts.

Here are the new words that guide me:  

Mindfulness: being in this present moment, one after the other, noticing without attaching.

Gratitude: finding everyday joy in the simple and sublime; watching the story unfold with warm curious attention.

Hope: this definition by Vaclav Havel resonates -- "Hope is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the certainty that something is worth doing no matter how it turns out."  No longer naively trusting, but still willing to be vulnerable, I will share my heart because it hurts too much not to.

With this mantra -- mindful grateful, hopeful -- I'm back.  Or at least making my way, with deep humility and a bit of awe.

At least, that's the view from here..©

Photo Credit: pixabay.com

 

TIME IS ON MY SIDE

People often say time seems to speed up as they age.  Days, weeks, months, and years seem to fly by.  When asked about certain specific events, people often believe they happened much more recently than they really did: "Oh no...can it be that long ago already?"  It's a strange phenomenon.  It's a perception, since time itself is pretty reliable in its stability.

(OK, all you quantum physicists out there...you win, with whatever argument you want to throw at that statement, because while I find your analyses and theories utterly fascinating, they are beyond my ability to truly comprehend.  I love the Science Channel series "Through the Wormhole" mostly for the amazing topics that I always think I will understand, but ultimately don't.  It also has some great photography.  And the sound of Morgan Freeman's voice, who could convince me of anything, is so soothing.  Also I love the idea that there are so many people who have brains wired to sit around for their entire adult lives writing long and complicated math equations in note pads and find this a fun and rewarding career.  What????  I would like a TV series to explain that to me and tell me why I didn't get one of those brains.)

So, this perception about time has one theory that the younger we are the more novel our experiences (so many "firsts") and that we focus on them in ways that later we gloss over because so much has become familiar, mundane, routine.  The "big" moments are fewer and farther between, so they seem like they happened "only yesterday".  Naturally other theorists are now poking holes in that notion.

I don't know what the answer is.  I just know that the perception that "time flies" seems to be true for me.  And if it has to do with that novel experience idea, then I say do more of that!  Yet I realize that I have lately begun to want to do less.  In recent months I have become a seeker of comfort, ease, and familiarity.  So this does not bode well for  experiencing novelty.  Does that mean my days are flying by with nothing to hang on to and no memories to anchor me in time?

Or is there another way to experience "novelty", even in the mundane?

In recent months I've also begun a meditation practice that is based on "mindfulness".  I am a novice and I fail more often than not, but the idea is to be "mindful"-- fully present, in each moment.  Washing dishes becomes an experience of feeling the water, the temperature of the water, the way it flows around the dishes, runs over my hands, noticing the suds light and airy floating across the water's surface, white and translucent, the heft of the bright red bowl in my hand....you get the idea.  It's a much different experience than just rushing through the task. I'm not standing there with a dreamy look on my face loving every dish-washing moment, but I'm trying to be "present" with the task, not a million miles away with thoughts racing in various directions while I mindlessly get through it to get on to the next thing.

Maybe mindfulness creates novelty, each experience "new", each day, week, month, and year anchored in meaningful experience.  Because it's every minute of every day that make up a life.  It's not all noticably different, but it can be all "new" if we are paying attention.  This is the only life I have right now; I want to savor it and not let it slip away to that time when I will awaken to the realization that it's already over...and went by so quickly.

At least that's the view from here....©