Learning

It has been a looooong time since I put something up on this blog.  Thanks Birdie, for asking.  I’m not sure why the hiatus, exactly, because I’ve been doing so much better and feel like I’m actually relearning happiness.  At least I’ve been re-experiencing happiness.  But more important than happiness is the hope I’ve felt.  Since my last post in February a lot has happened, but most of it has been internal.  I’ve spent many hours, days, months, just thinking, reading, and writing (journaling). My therapist said that I am the healthiest she’s ever seen me.  I’ve felt that way too. I think I’ve actually been experiencing life the way “normal” people do—some ups, some downs, but generally doing all of life’s requirements haven’t taken much thought or energy.  It’s been so long since I’ve felt like that, and I’m enjoying it.  However, I’m still very introspective.  I live a lot in my thoughts.  And I haven’t had much energy for people other than my husband, kids, and a few close friends.  But I’m allowing that to be enough.  

I’ve been reading many good books, a lot on relationships.  One author that I’ve found very inspiring is Brené Brown.  Her focus is on the power of being vulnerable.  Someday I’ll write a post on my thoughts about vulnerability.  She’s given a great TED talk which you can learn more about here:  

http://www.ted.com/speakers/brene_brown

This summer my family went on a 50 mile backpacking trip over 6 days.  It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done!  None of us had prepared for the trip, so I think it was physically harder than it had to be.  There were days I was sure that I could not make it.  I wanted to sit down and cry; at one point I even considered turning back before I got too far to turn back.  But I kept putting one foot in front of the other—what else could I do (stay in the mountains and live on huckleberries?)?  There were also wonderful, magical, moments (especially when I was able to ignore the 6 blisters and toenail that was coming off).  We ate wild huckleberries, saw wolf tracks, swam in the Selway River, and I loved checking out all of the plants.  

I know this is a worn-out metaphor, but I thought a lot about how life is like that 50 miler I was on.  There are moments of dragging yourself up hills/mountains; there are moments of spectacular views; there are moments of pain; there are moments of refreshment; there are moments when you feel you can’t go on; there are moments of feeling proud (even amazed) that you did go on; there moments of being cold and also of being hot; there are moments when you think the trail will be easy but it turns out to be the hardest part of the hike; there are moments when you need the support of your hiking partner; there are moments when you need to give support to your partner; there are moments when you wish you never started the damned hike; there are moments when you are so grateful you did. Yep, it’s a lot like life.  The only difference is that in life we don’t know where the end of the trail is and we can’t be sure there will be a hot shower and ice cream waiting for us.  But we can hope.  

It’s all about hope.  One of the most difficult things is that during the dark days of depression, hope flees.  During those times I guess we just have to keep putting one foot in front of the other—what else can we do? 

I am learning to accept the moments of hope and happiness, without worrying about how long they will last.  I’m learning to just “sit” with my anxiety, depression, fear.  I’m learning to let go of worrying that I’m slipping into depression every time I have a down day (I am still vigilant about slipping back into depression—I want to do everything I can to proactively keep myself healthy).  I’m learning to let people in and accept their help and to trust.  I’m learning to embrace the reality that I’ll never get things perfectly, every time—to embrace mistakes, to embrace the ebb and flow of emotions and of relationships.  I’m learning to sit with the reality that my children will experience pain in life, no matter what I do to protect them.  I’m learning to want my children to experience all of life, the hard, the good, the scary, the wonderful.  I’m learning to accept life as it is.

Most importantly, I’m learning to accept what is in my life and what I can give to life as enough.  Our culture is constantly telling us that there isn’t enough, that we are not enough (some of Brené Brown/’s ideas).  It is so pervasive—I wake in the morning and the first thing I think is “I didn’t get enough sleep” and by the time I go to bed I’m thinking “I didn’t get enough done.”  I never really realized what a strong hold that idea/mantra has on me and my thoughts.  So, I’m learning to live with a belief in abundance, that there is more than enough of everything in this life; that I am enough. And this post is long enough!  :)

Poetry

I was in a wonderful bookstore today, in a little town in Washington, called Walla Walla.  It's a charming place and this bookstore was magical.  I found a book of poetry by Mary Oliver that I don't have, so I bought it, on an impulse (I know, that's bad, but hey, it's poetry!).  Her work is beautiful.  I would love to spend several weeks with her, following her around, talking about life and nature, being quiet together.  Anyway, I thought I'd share one of her poems that I really liked.  In truth, it's hard to decide which one to share, but I'll start with this one and maybe share others later.

Hurricane-- by Mary Oliver

It didn't behave
like anything you had
ever imagined.  The wind
tore at the trees, the rain
fell for days slant and hard.
The back of the hand 
to everything.  I watched
the trees bow and their leaves fall
and crawl back into the earth.
As though, that was that.
This was one hurricane 
I lived through, the other one
was of a different sort, and 
lasted longer.  Then
I felt my own leaves giving up and
falling.  The back of the hand to
everything.  But listen now to what happened
to the actual trees;
toward the end of that summer they
pushed new leaves from their stubbed limbs.
It was the wrong season, yes,
but they couldn't stop.  They 
looked like telephone poles and didn't
care.  And after the leaves came
blossoms.  For some things, 
there are no wrong seasons.
Which is what I dream of for me.

Isn't that lovely?  I know about the different sort of hurricane.  I've felt the back of the hand to everything. And I believe my leaves are pushing out, on my stubbed limbs.  Maybe the blossoms will follow. 

Honesty Can Hurt

Honesty can hurt.  Is it always the best policy?  I'm not suggesting people should lie.  I'm just wondering if keeping something to yourself is better than being honest, especially when somebody else's feelings are involved.  The problem is that you never know how the other person is going to take what you say.  You can never know for sure whether being honest or keeping quiet is going to be better for you and the other person.  But, too be honest, even though honesty can hurt, I'd much rather people be honest with me and then let me deal with my emotions, rather than thinking I needed protecting.  My parents did that a lot, not tell me things so as not to worry me.  I can understand keeping things from your children if it isn't age appropriate or doesn't really involve them.  But my parents would keep things that I wanted/needed to know from me.  So I tend to do that too. 

This honesty that I'm talking about is the emotional honesty in relationships.  I'm not talking about keeping your opinion to yourself when you know it will only cause contention and the other party won't listen, unless you're supporting their worldview.  I'm also not talking about keeping feelings in when you're with a group of people and you don't feel "safe" with them.  There are times when honesty isn't necessary because it will be wasted.  But with those you're invested in, I do think honesty is the best policy; even though it can hurt.  I've been trying that lately and it's hard.  But I can't let the response of someone else keep me from being honest.  I just don't know the how/when/why honesty should be put out on the table.  I guess that like everything else it's something you learn to do with practice.  

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.