Courage and Cowardice

Where does courage come from?  What does it look like?  Is living with depression an act of courage or cowardice?  I can see how it may be both.  Maybe it is cowardice if depression is a refusal of happiness, which it sometimes seems like.  Maybe it's cowardice when one is too afraid to live a life of happiness; when all you know is depression, the unknown possibility of happiness can be a frightening place.  Maybe depression is cowardice because one can hide behind depression and be excused from more meaningful relationships and be excused from having the energy and vitality that non-depressed people have.  Maybe depression is just an easier, more cowardly excuse.  And maybe there is cowardice in choosing to continue living a life in a depressed state rather than choosing death, because death is an unknown. 

But maybe, depression is an act of courage, because you wake up every day and take care of the children, the animals, the spouse, when really all you want to do is hide in bed.  Maybe it is courage to chose to try to interact with people, try to be engaged in a conversation, when really all you want to do is be alone, in the darkness of your thoughts.  And maybe depression is a harder, more courageous act because you admit that life is not always as good as it seems, and yet still you go on.  Maybe choosing life with depression instead of death is an act of courage, because life with depression is the known, and sometimes the known is more frightening than the unknown.  Maybe living with depression is an act of courage because you keep hoping that one day you will find happiness; maybe courage is the ability to hope.

Square Grapes

I am feeling sober right now.  All in all, it's been a good day:  I went and taught my ecosystems ecology class, I did some house work, took my daughter to school registration, and went to book group this evening.  In many ways I have been able to traverse across my different roles today with relative ease.  Yet I am feeling a bit lost; I don't feel like I belong here.  And this is all despite the different places that I should find community--the university, the public school system for my children, my friends in book group.  Somehow though, I still feel like I'm as strange as a square grape.  In a world full of round grapes, I am wondering if a square grape can find a sense of belonging.

Gum in my Hair

I have been trying to be more aware of my moods, feelings and any thoughts or events associated with them.  One thing I'm aware of is that my unhappy or anxious moods tend to come with sticky thoughts.  What I mean by this is that any negative or depressing feelings seem to stick themselves to all activities and events in my life.  Once I'm feeling anxious or depressed about one thing, it all spills over into other parts of my life.  It's kind of like getting gum stuck in your hair:  the harder you try to pull it out, the more hair gets tangled in it.  I'm not sure why that doesn't happen on the other end of the spectrum.  A good or positive feeling seems to be more ephemeral and fleeting. Whereas whenever I come across a more negative thought, it starts sticking itself onto multiple parts of my life and I can't seem to contain those more anxious and darker feelings.

Unfortunately being aware of this phenomenon doesn't seem to make my thoughts less sticky.  But maybe I'll learn to take these feelings less seriously; maybe being aware will help me get the scissors out sooner rather than later.  If I can just get the scissors out and excise the gum instead of getting the gum all over, maybe my depression will lose some of its steam and not last quite as long.

Today while I was trying to work on my dissertation I was hit with the thought that I don't want to do research and I'm not sure I want to teach.  The latter part of that thought makes me uncomfortable because teaching was the one thing I was sure I wanted to do.  But I'm not so sure now.  Somewhere along this journey I've lost my confidence and I'm not sure how to find it.  Maybe this is true for most people who work on a PhD.  Maybe most people feel like quitting at some point or another.  Maybe they all feel like frauds sometimes.  I don't know.  With the debt I've acquired, I better like teaching or research, because I'll have to get a job to pay off the loans I've taken out.  I can't afford not to work when I'm done.  But I think what I need is a class that I can truly call my own.  I'm teaching Ecosystems Ecology this semester, but I'm borrowing a lot from others and parts of my lectures/assignments don't feel like my own.  It's like I'm teaching from another persons syllabus.  Of course I've done this because I'm also trying to finish my dissertation and I don't have the time to do more than that.  I guess that's okay, but I feel like I'm not in complete ownership of the course.

So, I've gained an insight into my feelings and moods, but where does that leave me?  I either need to stop sleeping with gum in my mouth, or keep a pair of scissors handy.  Too bad I don't seem to know when to throw out my gum.