Planning The Future By The Past

I've been contemplating life A LOT lately.  More than usual, I think.  My mood has been going up and down.  At least the downs don't seem to last as long as 4 years!  Maybe just 4 days, then I get up a little bit.  I get frightened to hope for a long period of time being depression-free.  Judging from the past. . .

That one fragment of a sentence (judging from the past) sent me on a wild goose chase to find a quote from the movie "What's Up Doc?" that includes that in the line.  It was really fun to look up quotes from the movie and remember how funny that movie is.  The best part of the movie is the dialogue between all the characters.  There are so many memorable quotes.  But I'm going to focus on this one (I did find it on the internet--how did we ever live without it?).  To set up the scene, Judy and Howard are up on the top floor of the hotel, a place where painting paraphernalia is lying around.  They just fell off a bench they were sitting on and this is their exchange:

Judy Maxwell: What's wrong?
Howard Bannister: The future.
Judy Maxwell: What's the matter with it?
Howard Bannister: Judging from the recent past...
Judy Maxwell: Edmund Burke said, "You can never plan the future by the past."
Howard Bannister: I beg your pardon?
Judy Maxwell: You're wondering what a girl like me is doing quoting Edmund Burke? 

It's the quote within the quote--"You can never plan the future by the past."  I wonder if that's true or not.  I certainly am hesitant to put any trust in feeling depression-free for any length of time.  It's scary to start feeling better.  I'm afraid that the feelings won't last and I'll slip back down, or worse, spiral down.  I can totally see the difference in how I view life when I'm depressed vs. when I'm feeling hopeful.  

Just this last weekend some good things were happening and I was feeling hopeful about life.  My thoughts and feelings toward God were somewhat positive too.  I felt hopeful about establishing a relationship with God.  Then, the other day I was feeling the darkness all around me and I lost my hope in God, at least for that time.  I just was back to feeling abandoned by God.  I was back to feeling angry at God and really lonely and sad too.  Today, I'm in a better place and I'm back to thinking maybe God is there and does care.  So which is real?  That's what I'd really like to know.  Or are they both just constructs of my biochemistry?  Are they both equally real or both equally false?  Ugh, I can really think myself into some weird and tricky places.

Well, I'm heading into the weekend feeling better than I was feeling during the week.  Usually I get more depressed on weekends, but hopefully I can be really mindful of what's going on inside of me and keep up hope going for a bit longer.  I'll try not to plan my future by my past. 

The Rubble Has Got to Go

A little more about rubble and rubble clean up.  While I agree with my friend that one runs the risk of spending too much time ruminating on the rubble in one's life, I think I need to do some clean up.  The reasoning is this:  there may be parts of my old building that I can use in my new building.  I need to find those parts.  Also, if I just move over and build a new building, I'll have to look out on the rubble every day.  The rubble has got to go.

Rubble

Last night, as I lay in bed trying to go to sleep, I had an image of myself sitting in a pile of rubble.  The rubble was my base of academia, my life of academia.  It’s been devastated and I’m left just sitting in all of this dust, bricks, rebar, wondering what to do.  I’m not sure where to start with clean-up or rebuilding.  It’s all so huge.  But that’s where I feel like I am in life—rebuilding.  I’m rebuilding my idea of what is important in life, what I want to do with my life, where I fit in and where I can be to feel important.  Actually, I’m not at the rebuilding phase yet.  Like I said, I don’t know where to start.  I can’t even imagine a new life, I can’t imagine what this new building would look like or even what type of building I want. 

This evening I went out with a friend and talked.  She is really good at giving me hope.  I was telling her about my rubble metaphor and she suggested that I don’t worry about cleaning up; that I should just build somewhere else.  Hmm.  Interesting idea.  Where should I go to rebuild?  That idea has so many more possibilities than sitting around, trying to clean up and start over again.  Cleaning up would mean I pick up one brick and remember everything I loved about that brick; I'd never be able to throw it out and move on.  I really need to find a new place to build.  That idea has hope and possibility.  Those are good things to fight depression with.

50 lb. pack

Here's an apt metaphor for those of us who struggle with depression.  I've been thinking about how it would be different to tackle life's problems if you didn't have depression to go with it--I imagine one could face one's difficulties with hope.  When depression is one of your difficulties, it makes all the other problems just that much harder.  So, here's the metaphor when you live with depression:  You're at a race and the gun goes off and everyone starts to run.  You start running too, but you're way behind everyone.  As you look around yourself, you realize that you have a 50 lb. pack on your back, whereas most people are running without a pack at all.  That's it.  Of course I realize I'm not the only one wearing a pack in the race.  I'm struggling to keep up with some really neat people, people I only get to know because I'm slow and in the back of the race with them. 

If I didn't have the pack on while racing, maybe I'd be an Olympic runner.  But, as my therapist (who came up with the metaphor) said, maybe I'd be a narcissistic ass, too.  Having the pack does tend to give one empathy.  Empathy is a good thing.  But I'll tell you, I'm ready to take the pack off for a while.  I guess I did have it off for a little bit--got a breather.  But I've hefted it back on and I've started trying to race along with it again.  Here's to strong shoulders.

Darkening

Maybe I jinxed myself.  I was secretly wondering if the last 2 months were too good to be true.  My thoughts are darkening and I'm scared.  I don't think I can go back to that place.  But is it too much to ask for, to just be able to live without depression?  I'm not even talking about being happy, I'll settle for just not depressed for more than a couple of months at a time.

Two Months Depression-Free

Two months of living depression-free!  I can hardly believe it.  I'm beginning to think I kicked that black dog out of my life for a good long while.  Of course, I don't want to jinx myself. 

I'm finding that although I'm not depressed, I'm not brimming with joy either.  There is a deep-seated sadness that is persisting, but it isn't as heavy as when I'm depressed.  In fact, I think the hard shell of depression was protecting my sorrow.  But I can look at the sorrow now, and deal with it. 

As far as enjoying life goes, I have yet to find my passion in life.  Still feeling passionless.  Still have to start teaching in a week.  How can I teach something well when I don't feel passionate about it?  Teachers who lack passion about the subject they're teaching are boring and uninspiring.  At least I can sit down and think about work, even get some work done.

Whenever I get a spurt of energy I tend to start listing all the things I'm going to accomplish.  I felt myself doing that today--I was considering taking on a lot of things just because I'm not depressed anymore.  However, I'm holding myself back, because I sense that I'm still in the healing process and need to give myself time and freedom.  I don't want to just start filling my life with busy activities.  What I really want is to ground myself, explore my emotions, figure out who I am in the middle of my life.  I hope I can do that and still have time for those around me; it's a balancing act--taking care of yourself and taking care of others.  For the last four years I've been running on empty, but still taking care of the basic needs of my family.  Part of me feels guilty for needing more time.  But it's as if I was just clinging onto the face of a cliff in the middle of a storm and now I've climbed up over the cliff and I'm just lying flat on my back.  I'm at the precipice, trying to get enough energy and nerve to stand up, maybe even look over cliff's ledge to see what I've overcome.

So despite my cultural and religious upbringing, that tells me I "should" take care of everyone else, especially now that I'm feeling better, I'm refusing to be guilted into doing more than I can.  Even that alone is a big accomplishment.