Relearning Happiness

Sprouting

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Fri, 11 Sep 2015 20:42:00 +0000

When I first started this blog I wasn't sure what the title meant, or how it would apply to me. But I am now truly relearning happiness. It has been a very long, arduous, process. However, this week I had an interesting experience that made me realize that I am now in a very different place than I ever have been.

I have been feeling sad, angry, frustrated, bitter, and unhappy since Monday. I've been struggling with feeling worthless. I have even been feeling sorry for myself. But the strangest thing occurred to me--I have not felt depressed. For 3 or 4 days I've been experiencing all the emotions that I normally associate with my depression, but through it all, I have felt an underlying calm; maybe I could even call it a sense of hope. How is this possible? I'm kind of stumped. And I'm pretty sure that I'm not even dysthymic any more. For the last 10, 20, maybe even 30-35 years I've basically been dysthymic or severely depressed. I've never felt this emotionally healthy. I can't remember ever feeling bitter and unhappy without feeling depressed. I'm not sure I thought it was possible.

As I realize this, that I am in a very new place, I am filled with so much gratitude, and relief, and compassion. I wish I understood how it was that I got to this place so I could help other people who suffer from depression to get to this new place. It's quite amazing. All I know is that I have been consistently working with a really good therapist, I've found medication that is helping, and I've been jogging or walking about 5 times a week. And I've been reading a lot of interesting books--especially work by Brene Brown; and talking with generous, compassionate friends; and I've just kept trying. I've been trying and trying and trying, for years. I wrote before about the way my emotional health has proceeded a lot like a geological process of weathering--small, consistent effort that eventually reshaped my emotional landscape. I'm not sure what else there is. But it can change.

When I started jogging I could almost feel a small, hard, shell in the center of my being; as I jogged I imagined that hard shell softening. And over the last 2 years that hard shell has softened, then it started putting out roots, and now it's putting out shoots and leaves. My depression was really a seed, just needing the right conditions to emerge, to transform itself. I love this imagery. And even now, when I go jogging, I feel the roots getting stronger, bigger, deeper, and I feel the leaves unfurling. With every footfall I feel this happening inside of me; I meditate on it.

Maybe I'm not re-learning happiness; maybe I am learning happiness. Or could it be that I am not learning happiness but that I am becoming happiness? This journey is more than learning or relearning, it is a journey of becoming. The thing is, being free of depression hasn't meant being free of sorrow, pain, anger, uncertainty, self-doubt, even self-loathing. I still feel those things. But going back to the seed metaphor--instead of closing myself off to all emotion, I'm opening myself up to those emotions, along with the more comfortable ones of joy, peace, happiness, silliness, hope. And by imbibing all these emotions, my spirit is being fed and something has sprouted. Now I'm just trying to keep feeding that little sprout. I think it's about accepting all the emotions.

A "Normal" Reaction

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Sun, 10 May 2015 21:00:00 +0000

I think I am having a “normal” experience. I think my moods and reactions to events are verging on what an average person would experience. This is a strange place to be. Recently I applied to 2 jobs that I thought I was well qualified for, one of them which I really wanted. Just this week I was rejected for both of them. I was really upset. My thoughts went straight to telling me how this is to be expected because I’m not very good at anything and people can see through all my “experience” and “education” etc. I kept telling myself that I wasted my time and money getting a PhD—I could have just as easily been rejected for the jobs if all I had was a MS. I told myself that if I hadn’t pursued my PhD I would be $45,000 richer (no longer in debt for school), I wouldn’t have spent 8 years of my life having my self-esteemed destroyed, I would probably still love academia and formal education (currently I’m not too hip on it all), and I could have applied for the same jobs and have been rejected for the same jobs.

I felt horrible. This continued for several days. My husband was worried that I was slipping back into depression. I was a little bit worried about it too. The first 2 days after receiving the news were really difficult for me. The 3rd day was hard, but it didn’t feel as unbearable. By the 4th day, I was disappointed, but no longer discouraged. Now, I am fine. I’m still disappointed, but I’m not worried about it, I’m not obsessing about it, I’m not telling myself that I have no value. The intensity of my self-criticism has waned. This has left me scratching my head. Why am I feeling ok about it all? Why am I not obsessing and getting depressed? I’ve come to the conclusion that I am having a very normal reaction to a life-event. I think that people who do not suffer from depression would have gone through several days of feeling horrible, but that eventually, within days, they’d be able to move on. This is really strange, and wonderful, to realize that I’m emotionally healthy enough to get through this disappointment without having it destroy me/my mood. It appears that I’ve come to a new normal and I’ve tested the words out loud: I am normal. I am normal.

So where do I go from here? I’m finding that I defining myself as “depressed” is no longer accurate. But I’m not sure what I am anymore. Depression has been the focal point of how I defined myself that there is this gaping hole left behind. I am normal. So now what? It’s strange to think that I need to define myself with words that no longer describe my emotional state. Do I now think of myself in terms of my education? My marital status? My parental stage of life? My work status? My age? My religious affiliation? All of those things are part of me, but not the core of who I am. And I guess depression is not at the core of who I am. So. So.

I struggled with understanding the question of “who am I, really?” while I was depressed. I’ve struggled with it all of my life. But now I’ve lost an critical part of my identity. It’s interesting. Here are a few things that are true about me and seem not to have changed with my emotional state, I am:

self-reflective
caring
empathetic
persistent
resilient
forgiving

Well, I suppose that’s a good place to start. I was thinking about all of the things I enjoy doing, but those things change with time, energy, money availability, etc. They are more fluid than characteristics, like those listed above.

I am curious to see if my knee-jerk fear of getting depressed will change with time. It actually has already, to a degree. I remember talking to my husband and telling him that he didn’t need to worry about me getting clinically depressed over these rejections because I had a base feeling that I wasn’t on that trajectory. So my fear of getting depressed has lessened. Last year at this time I would get very anxious every time my mood flitted around or dipped low. I am becoming accustomed to this new normal. It’s kind of cool.

Emotional Pacing

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Tue, 21 Apr 2015 03:18:00 +0000

Two weeks ago I felt an overwhelming feeling of empowerment. I realized that my sisters (and mother) tell themselves a story of being a victim. In this story, there is nothing they can do to change their situation--everything is shitty in their lives and everything that happens is viewed through this lens that will always enforce the story they tell themselves. I feel so blessed/lucky to have a therapist who has helped me learn to be creative about finding solutions to the problems I face in my life.

For the most part, I refuse to play the victim. However, when it comes to my dissertation experience, I was eviscerated and I get physically ill even thinking about it. But a couple of weeks ago I was talking to my therapist and both issues (my sisters and my dissertation) came up. Suddenly there was a shift in my thinking and I clearly understood that I've been playing the victim card when it came to my dissertation and subsequent job hunting, etc. The story I told myself was “you can’t do it; you only got your degree because they felt sorry for you; you aren’t really a scientist; everyone will know you are a fake; no one will accept your papers for publication” and so forth. I've been feeling so sorry for myself because I had a horrible, nasty, undermining thesis adviser. It's been 2 years since I graduated and I have barely been able to think about what I went through to get my degree. Whenever my adviser's name came up I literally got sick to my stomach. But the other day, talking with my therapist, I realized that I have a choice--I can take responsibility for how I react to the situation or I can let the situation define me. And in that moment I decided that I wouldn't let Dr. ** asshole ** have power over me anymore. Wham! That was it. And I felt more empowered than ever before. It is amazing. Since then I've dusted off my dissertation chapters and am working on getting them ready to be submitted to some journals for publication. Guess what? They aren’t half bad. I even looked up my old prof on his webpage (without getting sick) and was able to see him differently--I see his flaws and weaknesses and realize that everything he said to me was actually a reflection of his own feelings of inadequacy.

This is not to say that all you have to do is think happy thoughts and all will be well in the world. I believe that I was able to make that shift due to the work I've been doing in other areas of my life. My therapist has told me, many times, not to believe this professor; she's told me in a myriad of ways to choose to believe differently. And while I understood and agreed with her on an intellectual level, I hadn't been able to internalize it, until now. Why now? I don't know. My guess is that these shifts happen when we persistently try to see our lives and live our lives in healthier ways. Just like geological processes—wind or water consistently wearing down a rock, until it erodes away into sand. I suppose if I truly understood why I'd make a billion dollars--because no one really understands it but everyone wants to. I just know it's not simply a pill, or simply going to therapy, or simply exercising, or simply thinking happy thoughts, or simply not eating gluten (I actually eat gluten, though). It is a combination of things and it takes consistent work, repeating the same small things over and over, sometimes for years.

That being said, I'm experiencing some interesting things from feeling empowered.

It feels like I’m a little overwhelmed with feeling so good. It may sound strange, how can someone feel overwhelmed by feeling good? But it’s kind of like putting a starving person in a room full of food and at first it’s so exciting and you feel giddy and grateful and excited; but then it becomes overwhelming—what do you eat first? How much do you eat without getting sick? That’s sort of where I’m at. I kind of need to pace myself. But I’ve never felt this good before, so I have no idea of where to start pacing myself. I’m pretty sure I’ll figure it out. One of the real tricks is to not get anxious with feeling overwhelmed by it all—just because I’m feeling overwhelmed, I’m not on a downward spiral. I must tell myself this and not be afraid to feel tired by it sometimes. I’m finding a new equilibrium, a new normal (to quote my friend Birdie) and it will take some time to normalize myself to it all. I’m in new territory and it is okay to feel both excited and nervous. It’s okay to want to jump in and also to want to move cautiously.

So I'm moving on to a different set of difficulties to figure out--emotional pacing. It should be interesting. I do know that I feel so grateful that I am feeling emotionally strong; strong enough to give back to people who have helped me and to others who just need some understanding and encouragement. It's time to repay those who helped me and also to try and pay it forward.

When Death Comes

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Mon, 06 Apr 2015 21:21:00 +0000

My mother passed away in January. I was able to be there with her when she died. Now both of my parents are gone and it's been really interesting to see how my different siblings deal with it. I'm the youngest, by 11 years, but the role I play in the family is to be the calm, reasonable one; the one who validates all the feelings my sisters are having; the one who understands where they are coming from; and the one who offers up possible solutions. I'm okay with that role, but I find it interesting that my sisters are so self-absorbed that they can't even see how all of this may be affecting me. None of us had a real emotional attachment to my mother, so I don't feel like I've lost much, by way of relationship, with her death. But there are definitely things that are difficult to deal with, pain I suffer from that none of my siblings seem to be aware of.

Actually, it's kind of interesting because things are following the same old pattern they have been for as long as I can remember. My parents referred to me as the child who raised herself, who didn't need anyone. I learned at a early age to be the keeper of my mom's emotions/moods; I learned not to ask for anything; I learned that I couldn't really count on anyone to take care of my emotional needs. No one really ever asked me about my feelings or about how I was doing. I think this has impacted my mood quite a bit--I'm realizing that I grew up believing I was all alone, that I could only count on myself emotionally speaking; I was well-cared for and well-loved, but very isolated. It's actually had a big impact on my marriage--it is really hard for me to let my husband in, to allow him to help me when I struggle. I feel like I have to do it alone. But that's another story. For now, I see this pattern being replayed with my sisters. One is the sister with the shittiest life and anything I say about my difficulties are always topped by her difficulties. She always has had it worse. So I usually don't say anything about how I'm feeling; partly out of guilt, because how dare I feel bad when she has had such a terrible life? My other sister and I aren't as close and not very open with each other, but it's a situation in which no one thinks much about my feelings or needs.

Another interesting thing is how much both of my sisters are like my mom, despite the fact that they loath the way my mother acted/reacted. I'm not sure either of them can see it, but it's there. They both love to be the martyr, although in different ways. One is very vocal about how horrible her life is and she puts the blame of her crappy life squarely on my mother's shoulders. But she doesn't realize that, like my mom, she is not accepting responsibility for her own happiness. She loves to dwell on how the world and everyone in it is out to get her, to take advantage of her, to make her life miserable. My mom wasn't able to take responsibility for her emotional health either. The other sister gets really passive-aggressive and makes everyone around her have to tip-toe around her and her depression. She doesn't take responsibility for her depression either. Of course, to protect my relationship with both of them, I can't point any of this out to them.

I've told my therapist that I am relying on her to point out behavior that falls into the same patterns that my mother lived. She agreed and our code phrase is "Holy shit, Kim!" When she says this, I know to snap to attention. :) But despite all of this, despite my mom's short-comings and her emotional paralysis, I have gained some good things from her--I've learned empathy, I've learned to put myself in other people's places and try to see things from their point of view, and I've worked really hard at having a different type of relationship with my children. My kids know they can come to me about anything. We have very open conversations and I share with them some of my trials with depression, among other things. We cuddle, we laugh together, we cry together. I'm pretty confident that their experience with me, as their mother, is so very different than my experience with my mom, and I feel good about it. And really, it's something good I got from my mom, in a round about way. And from my dad I've learned about persistence and hard work. I couldn't have gotten through my depression without both of those. So, even though my parents weren't perfect and I lacked a lot of emotional connection with them, I don't blame them for my life. I see how they modeled for me the ways to act in life but I also see how I learned from wanting things to be different. I guess the pain and suffering brought me growth and strength. And one of the most important things I've learned is that I am responsible for my own emotional health. I don't blame anyone for my problems (usually) and I work hard to change my behavior and ways of thinking in order to find greater happiness and health. I realize this is similar to what I wrote in November, but it's obviously something I've been thinking a lot about. I just have this sense of "rightness" about it all.

A friend shared this poem by Mary Oliver (my favorite!) with me when my mom died. I love it. And it's how I hope to live and die.

When Death Comes

When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn;
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse

to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;
when death comes
like the measle-pox

when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,

I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?

And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,

and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,

and each name a comfortable music in the mouth,
tending, as all music does, toward silence,

and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.

When it’s over, I want to say all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it’s over, I don’t want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.

I don’t want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.

I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world

-Mary Oliver

Long Time No Write

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Mon, 06 Apr 2015 21:16:00 +0000

It's been a long time since I worked on this blog. But I'm finding just how appropriate the name of this blog is--it is taking a lot for me to relearn happiness. When I first started the blog, I didn't think a lot about the name, but during these last 6-12 months I'm finding out how accurate the name is. I'm finally out of the abyss of severe depression, but as I've been feeling better I find that I've been in a state of anxiety every time my mood takes a dip. When my mood goes down I get so scared that it's the depression coming back. There have been a few short periods of depression, but nothing as disabling as what I was battling for 5 years. And now I have more good days than bad; I'm learning that having some down days is "normal" for "happy" people. When I get down or stressed, I'm learning that I can fight my knee-jerk reactions of fear and the desire to run away. And I'm learning about the ebb and flow of the energy it requires to be happy, social, involved in other people's lives. Currently I'm coming down off of a 4 day high and I'm allowing myself to feel lazy, to spend time alone, to not try and force myself to take on issues that I don't have the energy for. It's good, but the real effort comes in being mindful.

The other day I saw the woman who prescribes my meds. She said “I wish we had a group session where you could talk about your success with medication. People need to hear how you’ve done it, how it takes more than just taking a pill—it takes therapy, exercise, constant vigilance, etc.” She said that too many patients expect a pill to solve everything, to make it so they no longer feel any sadness. Anyway, that was nice to hear. I do feel like I’ve worked damned hard to get where I am. It has been a really long and arduous journey. And in truth, I still have to work at it every day. It’s getting easier, but I have to be really mindful of how I’m thinking, and I have to make myself get out jogging every day. I also have to work really hard at not getting overly-anxious when I do have bad days. I really am learning how to be happy, how to be normal. And I'm becoming more comfortable with the ebbs and flows of my relationships--with my husband, my children, my siblings, my faith community. I guess what is happening is that I'm learning how to break out of the all-or-nothing thinking that dominates depressed thought patterns. So I really do believe we can relearn ways of being, ways of interacting in the world, ways of thinking. That's what this blog is really about, for me, to document the journey out of depression. Now it's time to document the journey into happiness (although I sort of cringe at the word "happiness" because it's not really a state of being happy that I'm talking about, it's a state of good mental health).

Believe and Do the Hard Work

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Wed, 12 Nov 2014 19:34:00 +0000

My mom is dying. Not very gracefully, but that's her problem. I've just spent a week at her house as she got out of a rehab unit. She's been in and out of the hospital or rehab since August. Since I live in a different state, this is the first time I've been able to spend some time with her. And it was hard. Talk about emotional whip-lash! Several times a day I'd got from feeling sorry for her and compassionate, to being irritated and angry with her for not trying to make her own life better. But, that's okay. I'm always reminding myself that it is not my responsibility--I've done everything I can to help her find some reasons to work at getting better, but ultimately she is responsible for the decision to do the hard work and get better, or to suffer for these last few months of her life. I’m okay with her dying and not really sad over having her gone. That may sound cruel or unfeeling, but I think it's really just coming to peace with what I've had and haven't had with her. What I am sad about is that I never got the connection with her that I always wanted. But no one did—not my sisters, not my brother, almost definitely not my dad. The positive side of this, for me, is that I have created a very different relationship with my children.

Whenever I feel myself slipping into depression, I remind myself how differently I interact with my kids. I try to be open and honest with them. I try to let them know what I’m feeling and how I feel about them. So, even though my mom has failed in her relationships, I am doing better. And I am not destined to have an end-of-life experience like hers. During all of this--watching her get old, I've feared the aging process and what it will look like for me. But it will be different.

My sister was talking to me about how different dad was at the end of his life. He would go out walking every day, despite the weather, despite how fast he could go, despite how much he hurt. And it dawned on me that even though I am like my mom in my emotional make-up, I am also like my dad—I have his persistence and drive to do the hard work. I told my therapist about this and she commented that I have really gotten the best of both of them. From my dad I have his perseverance and work ethic, but unlike him I am empathetic to people who struggle, particularly with depression. From my mom I got the depression, but it has helped me gain empathy and compassion. So I have the tenacity to keep fighting my depression, which my mom never has had, and I have the empathy/understanding, which my dad lacked. He never understood depression and from what I can tell was never sympathetic to my mother’s state (at least while I was around; maybe he tried to be sympathetic early in their marriage but didn’t make any connections with her, who knows?). Anyway, I feel good about it. I feel good about what I’ve learned from both of them. I feel good about the strengths I’ve gotten from both of them. I feel proud of myself.

I was thinking about my fear of becoming like my mother—how my depression has scared me and how my knee-jerk reaction to difficult problems is to think “I can’t deal with it.” But I’ve stopped myself long enough to realize that even though my initial reaction is to feel overwhelmed and like I don’t want to deal with anything, I don’t let that stop me. Yes, it has taken me a long time to overcome some of my depressive episodes (this last one in particular). But I did it. I didn’t give up. Even in my darkest moments, I was aware of my depression, I was aware that I could eventually change things, I was wanting to change things. Even when death seemed like the most preferable option, I kept persisting, if only for my kids’ sake. But I found a reason to keep working and trying. I was always grasping at ways to deal with my depression better than my mom did (Hell, my mother isn't even aware of how depressed she is--funny side story: I mentioned something to her about how I knew it was hard to do things when you're feeling depressed and she said "you think I'm depressed?" My jaw dropped. I said "mom, you lie in bed all day and stare off in space. I think that is a really good indicator of depression." She is completely out of touch with her own feelings! It is astounding!). Anyway, I will be the first to acknowledge that I wasn’t always super effective in dealing with the depression and some days were definitely worse than others, but I never stopped trying, even when just getting myself out of bed was the most effort I could muster. That persistence and awareness is what sets me apart from my mom. I don’t have to be afraid of being like her—I am nothing like her. I am strong, I am honest, I am a hard worker, I am empathetic to other people and their struggles, I am aware and continually trying to be a better person (to be the best I can), and I don’t give up and expect everyone around me to cater to my pain.

I can’t quite explain how important this is for me to recognize, and to really believe. I feel like I’m at a turning point in my healing process—I’m finally believing and knowing that I’m not like my mom. I feel myself being freed from that fear. It’s a really good feeling. I’m not expressing it very well, but it is profound. I’m feeling it in my bones, not just on an academic level. So I guess that despite the difficulties of dealing with my mom and siblings and the end-of-life process that is so tricky, I am benefiting from it all. Maybe this is what it was going to take to help me recognize that I am a very different woman than my mom, despite our shared experience of depression. I feel like I am being freed from the fear that always bound me to her. It’s exciting and refreshing and comforting.

It has taken a long time to get here. It is something that my therapist and I have talked about and worked on for the last 8-9 years! Yikes, that’s a long time, but at least I’m making progress. My persistence has paid off. And I am really beginning to believe my therapist when she talks about all the hard work I’ve done to get where I am now. It has been hard work, and I have done it. No one can take that away from me and I’m better off for it. And my family is better off and my relationship with my husband is better off.

Anyway, I’m emotionally exhausted, but I’m also confident I can get through this. I’m confident that my husband and I can work through all of this together, that I’m not alone. He and I have also spent the last year working on our relationship--we were both so very unhappy, but now we're more connected to each other than ever. It is really difficult to explain how significant knowing that I'm not alone and that I can work through this is. I’m in such a different place than I was a year ago.

I wish I could say there was a magic moment or a specific thing that has helped me relearn happiness. But really it's just been a collection of moments. It's been persisting, not giving up, trying over and over to find the right anti-depressant combination, being willing to try a variety of avenues to reach a healthy place. It's been continuing in therapy, starting daily exercise, and having a small but significant network of loved ones, friends, family, therapist, that didn't give up on me either. If you're reading this and in the middle of a depressive episode, I hope that my experiences will give you confidence, or even just a glimmer of hope, that things can get better. Just don't give up. Believe and do the hard work.

Holding On vs. Singing

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Fri, 26 Sep 2014 22:42:00 +0000

Today, with my gray thoughts, I’m reminded of one of my favorite poems by Mary Oliver—I Will Try (posted on the side bar). It is a fantastic poem that matches my feelings so well. I love these lines:

[a woman] who thinks now, too much, of roots

and the dark places

where everything is simply holding on.

That is how I feel most of the time—thinking of dark places and simply holding on. But she goes on:

But this too, I believe, is a place

where God is keeping watch

until we rise, and step forth again and—

but wait. Be still. Listen!

Is it red bird? Or something

inside myself, singing?

At times I feel like there is something inside myself, singing. But it sings so quietly, sometimes it’s hard to hear. I like the idea that “God is keeping watch.” I don’t usually feel that way, but I want to believe it. I just love poetry. How do I move from simply holding on to singing? I want that, but it is hard. I seem to fluctuate so much. Lately I've just been cruising along with a very mild depression. It's the dysthymia, I think. And it's okay; it's doable. But I want something more. I want to feel like singing.

Staying Still

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Fri, 19 Sep 2014 19:29:00 +0000

I’ve started reading a new book called Still: Notes on a Mid-Faith Crisis by Lauren Winner. Wow. That’s all I can say—wow. I had no idea that someone else has gone through a very similar experience (although I’m not sure why I should be the only one). She has an amazing way with words and I’m finding it all very moving, validating, helpful, and it expresses so well things I’ve been thinking/feeling about the absence of God. It has been such a relief to read this. I’m only a little way into it, but it has been a balm to my troubled soul. I can’t say that I feel any closer to God. She doesn’t suggest that her book is a self-help book or that it has any “how-to’s” to get through the middle of one’s faith. But just having someone so eloquently express the feelings is valuable. She mentions several poets that I want to look up—Anne Harvey Sexton (whom I’ve heard about before) and W. S. Merwin. I love poetry. Lately poetry seems to be even more meaningful to me.

Here are some things she’s said in her chapter “ode on god’s absence”

When you find that God is absent, you do many things. . .You wonder if you have invented the whole thing: maybe it is not that God has removed himself from you; maybe, simpler, there is no God. . .You are growing a carapace, to protect yourself from this absence. You being to turn your attention elsewhere, to any elsewhere that might pay you some attention back. . .One thing you do is wonder at your own sin. You understand that the most straightforward explanation of this, God’s absence, is that you have sinned. . .Another thing you think, when you have come to God’s absence is this: it is not God who is absent at all, it is you who are absent. . .you read that for crustaceans to mature, they regularly have to shed and regrow their carapaces. You read that when they are molting, they are most vulnerable to attack. . .Later, later on in God’s absence, in God’s silence, you think: I cannot cajole God back. You can try to effect your own return, but you cannot cajole God. God will return, or not, as God’s own freedom dictates, as the whims of God’s capricious grace directs. . .Later still: maybe this silence, this absence, is a gift. Maybe what began as punishment is being converted to gift, maybe that is how God works. Maybe this absence will become an experience of God’s strangeness, God’s mystery. You think: Maybe I am being shown something here, if I would look, if I would see. You think of these words from the prophet Zephaniah: He will shout with joy for you, He will jump for you in jubilation, He will be silent in His love.

Wow, isn’t that amazing? I love that last line—He will be silent in His love. I don’t know what it means, exactly, but it seems to ring true and to be full of possible meaning. Ms. Winner is a lot like me—she turns to books first, for answers; any type of book—“a book on gardening, though I do not garden, but maybe everything would be better if I did.” I am so infused with something, the spirit? Emotion? Relief? Anticipation? And I’m only 27 pages into the 198 paged book. I want to devour this book; I want to slowly experience the vast myriad of flavors. I’m anxious to keep reading and I’m holding back so I can contemplate everything that I’m reading. Here are some more quotes, from her preface:

Some days I am not sure if my faith is riddled with doubt or whether, graciously, my doubt is riddled with faith. . .Faith, after all, is supposed to sustain you through hard times—and I’m sure for many people faith does just that. But it wasn’t so for me. . .God had been there. God had been alive to me. And then, it seemed, nothing was alive—not even God. . . You may arrive at the spiritual middle exhausted, in agony, in what saints of the Christian tradition have called desolation.

She quotes Mary Oliver! “O Lord of melons, of mercy, though I am not ready, nor worthy, I am climbing toward you.” Reading this just reinforces my deep desire to sit and ponder, read, and write. I feel like I’m at a critical juncture in my life, a place where great growth is happening; but I want to cocoon myself up while I’m going through this transformation. I want to immerse myself in thoughts and ideas. I want time to really ponder things, without interruptions. Maybe my not finding a job right now is a gift of time, time to do this very thing.

After recently going through many days of despairing, of struggling to keep my thoughts from taking me back down, this book is giving me hope. I’m even feeling anticipation for life; whereas 3 days ago I was wondering “why life?” Persistence pays off (although the pessimist in me says “this too shall pass;” you won’t stay up for long). But when I’m feeling good, I keep thinking that all of this—the ups and downs, the confusion and clarity, the hope the desolation—all of this is important and ultimately worth it, if I can just hang in there.

Learning

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Mon, 25 Aug 2014 18:33:00 +0000

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

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Tue, 25 Feb 2014 02:34:00 +0000

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

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Sat, 08 Feb 2014 23:11:00 +0000

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

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Sat, 01 Feb 2014 01:38:00 +0000

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

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Thu, 23 Jan 2014 22:53:00 +0000

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

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Tue, 21 Jan 2014 04:33:00 +0000

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

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Wed, 15 Jan 2014 22:56:00 +0000

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

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Mon, 13 Jan 2014 17:27:00 +0000

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

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Mon, 06 Jan 2014 02:58:00 +0000

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.

Exercise: Running Errands

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Fri, 20 Dec 2013 01:15:00 +0000

Luckily the slipping didn't land in the bottom of the well again. I'm coming back up and trying not to let the Holidays stress me out. It's dumb to turn this beautiful season into a crab-fest. I should rethink the whole Santa thing.

I'll be spending Christmas with family and I'm not all that stressed about it. Usually I dread it, just because it takes so much energy to put on the happy face. I do love being with my family and friends, and I think this year will be better.

I missed jogging for 3 days due to the need to run errands. Too bad running errands doesn't count as running! I'd be in great shape right now! However, I forced myself to get out today, even though every part of me wanted to curl up with a book. So, point for me. I'm always glad after the fact; sometimes that's the only thing that keeps me putting on my running shoes every day. But I'm clinging to the belief that this exercise is part of the key to my recovery. And really, it is nice to use my body for something like jogging. I'm 45 and still able to move my muscles and joints without too much pain!

Slipping

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Mon, 16 Dec 2013 20:08:00 +0000

For almost 3 weeks I've lived without the dark pull of depression. But I'm slipping. I'm not sure what exactly is causing the change, but I do know it's coinciding with the stress I'm feeling over Christmas. I'm feeling frantic and worried and stressed. I want to get the "perfect" gifts for people, but I don't really feel like going shopping--I just don't have time to do any relaxed shopping. Then there's the whole issue of how much money to spend. And in less than a week we'll be traveling to visit family, so I have to get everything ready for that. It's too much, but if I don't do it, how will it get done?

I'm hoping that this doesn't last and that I keep myself from slipping down any further. I should get out and go jogging, it's actually a lot warmer than the 23 degrees (F) that I have been jogging in. But I have so much to do today, people expecting me to be places at certain times, so I don't think I can get it in today. My mood is such that I'm not too sad about it, but I know I really "should" exercise today. Oh well, c'est la vie. I really just have to try not to let my thoughts spiral downward and out of control, but it's hard. I wish the Christmas season was really more relaxing and beautiful than it is for me this year. With that being said, Merry Christmas everyone!

Good Place To Be

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Sat, 07 Dec 2013 05:30:00 +0000

I am still feeling relieved from my depression. It's almost been two weeks. That's the longest time I've felt good in the last 4 years. I've been trying to figure out what has helped me--the new medication I'm on? The exercise? The breakthroughs I've had in therapy?

The weather has turned bitterly cold and it's making jogging hard. But I'm afraid to stop jogging because I feel like if I do, maybe the depression will creep back. I've got to figure out a way to jog in really cold weather. I know people do it, I just haven't found the right combination of layers yet. Exercising indoors isn't much of an option because jogging outside serves the dual purpose of getting me out and getting the dogs out.

It's strange to be feeling good. I do feel a little guilty about it though, which is strange, I know. I feel guilty towards others I know that are still feeling depressed. I'm not sure why I'm doing better and they're not. I don't have any magic bullet. All that I can seem to say is keep going. Eventually, even if it's 4 years later, it will get better. I'm also a bit afraid--I'm worried about how long this will last. I'm not counting on it staying around for any length of time. I'm just taking it day by day. When I get tired I sometimes get scared that the depression is coming back, but I think it's just basic tiredness, not the weariness that comes from depression.

Anyway, I'm really hopeful. It's a good place to be.

A New Vocabulary

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Sun, 24 Nov 2013 08:36:00 +0000

It’s 12:30 at night and I can’t sleep because I feel like I’m on the verge of understanding something important. So I’ve decided to take time and write my thoughts down.

It all started earlier tonight, as I was reading in bed. I’m reading Sue Bender’s newest book called “Stretching Lessons.” She’s the one who wrote “Everyday Sacred” and “Plain and Simple.” She’s absolutely wonderful. Her newest book is about learning to be bigger, to be our fullest selves, to give our soul wings. She talks about how so much of her life has been spent struggling, that she was all about “hard work.” I think that’s me, too. So I’ve been thinking about the words I use when I think about me and my life. Here they are:

Persistence
Struggle
Effort
Working hard all the time
Endure
Test
No pain, no gain

I think about my depression in terms of how hard I’m struggling to overcome it. And I’ve often written about how tired and weary I am. Maybe it’s time to stop fighting. I’m not really sure what that would look like, though. As I was lying in bed tonight, with these thoughts churning through my mind, I had the image of my depression being a hard, thick shell, protecting me. But protecting me from what? I also had the distinct feeling of something inside of me softening. And when I write that right now I am filled with emotion and I can’t really say why. But it seems like I’m on the verge of something big and something important. It’s like I’m in front of something big and true and life-changing, but I can’t quite bring myself to look directly at it, so that I only get sideways glimpses of it. But I know it’s something really important for me.

“Perhaps within each of us there is a daring spirit that whispers to be heard.” Sue writes. She also writes “I wondered if I also believed I had to struggle in order to earn the right to be happy.” Is that what I’m doing right now? Am I struggling through this depression because a part of me believes I have to earn the right to be happy? Is this me trying to earn that right? As Sue wrote about herself, I find true of myself—I am struggling, longing for ease. How can one be at ease if one is constantly struggling? And she talks about finding a way to release herself from the struggle, noting that the word “release” has the word “ease” tucked in it.

So my job now is to settle myself, to let go, to release whatever it is that I’m holding onto so tightly that I can’t breath anymore. Funny how I used the word “job,” which is usually associated with “work.” I need to find a new vocabulary.

Note: my writing tools aren't responding well, so this doesn't look exactly like I want it to. It's really been touchy lately and I hate it, it's quite difficult to write these posts.

Take What I Can Get

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Fri, 15 Nov 2013 18:08:00 +0000

Dark thoughts have been kept at bay for 7 days now, although my mood is slipping a bit. I just purchased and read Allie Brosh's new book "Hyperbole and a Half" which is based on her blog. She is so funny! I laughed a lot and also loved the writing she did on depression. I know I've mentioned that particular post before, but it's so worth reading and sharing with people who don't know what depression is like. She's funny and poignant at the same time.

Even though I am exercising regularly, I am still really tired. Maybe I haven't been exercising long enough to feel the perks of having more energy. That is the promise of exercise, isn't it? That you will feel more energized if you consistently exercise. I'm waiting for that.

I used to think I didn't have much faith, but the fact that I'm taking my meds, seeing a therapist, exercising, and still waiting for things to get better must be some sort of act of faith. I've decided that I have quite a bit of faith, actually. Good for me!

The weekend is coming up and weekends are usually trying for me. Everyone is home (kids, husband) and I don't get long periods of time to myself. I am still enjoying my "me time" while everyone is at school or work. I'm still reading and watching TV a lot. But I'm also starting to feel the slight rumblings of wanting to do something more. I'm not sure what the "more" would really look like, but once again, I'll take what I can get.

I've been spending a little more time looking for a job, but that can be depressing in and of itself. Even though I have a PhD, I'm not really qualified to do much. I have no retail experience, so working at a bookstore or REI isn't likely (as they want several years of retail experience), plus retail doesn't pay enough for me to pay off my student loans. And there aren't a lot of teaching gigs around town, if I even had the energy to teach. I will be teaching one class next semester, but I'm sort of dreading it. Maybe I'm just not ready for a job. But I am ready to make some money and get out from all of this debt I've acquired.

Thanksgiving is coming up and everyone is talking about what they are thankful for. I guess I'm thankful that I'm still alive. And I'm really grateful for some remarkable women in my life. Of course I'm thankful for the usual family, husband, kids, home, freedom. But I'm really thankful that I've had a week free of debilitating depression. I really do like Thanksgiving and believe in trying to have an "attitude of gratitude," however, gratitude can be a tricky thing when you're stumbling through the fog of depression. I guess I should be grateful that I can feel some gratitude. How's that?

So, I guess we take what we can get in this life and have the faith that things might improve. Just my two cents.

Absence of Dark Thoughts

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Fri, 08 Nov 2013 18:23:00 +0000

I'm going on my fourth day of feeling okay. It's kind of weird and I feel like something is missing. My past experience is that I can't count on good days being the norm, but I will take what I can get, when I can get it. I am wondering if the Deplin is starting to work. Also, I've been jogging with the dogs for the last week and a half, could that be part of the mood change? Apparently exercise is key to fighting depression, so maybe. But I don't know if a week and a half is long enough to make a difference. Anyway, I don't know why I'm feeling better, but I am. I still don't have much interest in doing things, but at least I'm not sitting around constantly thinking about how life is hard and not really worth it. I'm not sure if life feels like it's "worth it" yet, but there's definitely an absence of dark thoughts. I am not going to get ahead of myself and think that I'm out of this 4 year depression, but it is a real relief to have almost a week of emotional ease.

Fixing Dinner Along the Way

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Mon, 04 Nov 2013 01:24:00 +0000

So my time of empowerment didn't last long. Just 2 days. I feel like I'm in a deep, dark well, clawing my way out. And every time I get a glimpse of sunlight, I reach for another handhold and . . . I slip back down into the dark and the mud and the cold. I could really use a recharge right now. I'm losing hope, or maybe I've used up most of what hope I have.

I’m sitting downstairs in my room right now, listening to music and writing and I know I have to stop and go upstairs and help with dinner and homework and then get the kids to bed; all the mundane things that take so much energy for me to perform. But I guess I’m nothing if not persistent. So, here I go again, clawing my way back up the well, fixing dinner along the way.

Two Important (Maybe) Ideas

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Sun, 03 Nov 2013 00:24:00 +0000

I had a really good talk with a dear friend today. There are two important things I learned, or ideas that we discussed. 1. Maybe God didn’t answer my prayers because I have to do it on my own. 2. Maybe the purpose of life is to live purposefully.

So, let’s look at the first idea. I was telling my friend about my prayers long ago to feel or know that I was a child of God, that I was important, and trying to pray away the depression, praying for an end to it; and that I never felt any answers. So I quit praying and I've been doubting the existence of God ever since, despite my religious upbringing and my continued participation in my church. But today, while talking with my friend, I reflected on the time when Sam was a little boy trying to learn how to write the letter “S.” He was so frustrated and mad because he couldn’t do it, and he thought he’d never get it. And I sat back knowing, absolutely KNOWING, that he’d one day learn to write the letter "S" and he’d have no problems with it. However, I couldn’t do it for him. He had to figure it out on his own, through practice, through trial and error. I could show him the basic mechanics of what an “S” looked like, how to hold the pencil, etc., but I could not do it for him. So maybe God can’t answer my prayer, maybe I have to do it on my own. I’ve been taught the basic mechanics, but maybe overcoming this depression and feeling like a daughter of God has to be something I come to on my own. Maybe God KNOWS I can do it and will do it, but I have to learn it on my own, just like Sam had to learn how to write his name on his own. As I told my friend this and talked through this idea it has just felt right to me. I felt such overwhelming emotion as I talked about this that I think maybe I’m on to something true here. Maybe God is watching me, knowing without any doubt that I will make it through this and be glorious some day. And maybe it's just a matter of time before I know my real value and worth as a daughter of God.

This reminds me of a something Sue Bender wrote in “Everyday Sacred.” She was talking about breaking bowls, purposefully breaking them and then gluing them back together. She writes:

“In the past, no matter what I did or accomplished, I still felt like something was missing. When I put the pieces of my cracked pot together, I saw that nothing was missing.

Nothing.

I saw that I was WHOLE.

That same week a letter came from a woman who had spent years living with and writing about the Shakers. In her letter I read, “The Latin root of the word ‘perfect’ means only ‘finished,’ not ‘without flaws.’”

We start out whole. Complete. Along the way, we may feel that something is wrong, or missing. We aren’t the way we’d like to be or the way we think we should be. A crossroads, a new stage in life, a turning point, a crisis, when we feel we may crack, or we do crack, can be a difficult, frightening time.

And sometimes we deliberately crack our own bowl.

With time and great care and tender patience, we can reexamine the pieces, knowing that when we are ready, a solution will come. We can glue the pieces back together.

This bowl looks far more interesting, more beautiful than before it broke. The pieces are the same, but it’s a different bowl than when I started.”

Maybe for these last several years I’ve been going through the bowl cracking process. I’ve been cracking, my life has been cracking. And maybe, just maybe, I’m at the point of gluing the bowl back together. And maybe God just has had to sit and watch me do this all, has had to let me do it myself.

Now, to the second idea: Maybe the purpose of life is to live purposefully. Maybe it’s about making decisions on purpose—deciding how we are going to treat other people, other organisms, the planet; living each moment with purpose. Purposefully picking up that piece of trash. Purposefully putting the grocery cart back to the right spot. Purposefully being kind to a stranger, to a friend, to our children, to our spouse. Making a conscientious choice in what we do each and every day, each and every moment. Maybe when we start living like that, we find purpose to our life.

I feel good and excited about these ideas. I feel like I may be onto something. I realize I felt this way a couple of weeks ago with the idea that the purpose of life is relationships. I felt really good for about 2 days, and then slumped back down. But that’s okay. I do think the purpose probably has something to do with relationships. And living purposefully is also a part of it. And cracking our bowls and gluing them back together is part of it too. I feel like I’m gaining pieces of the answer to this quest I’m on. I don’t have it all, yet, but maybe I have faith that someday I will figure it all out. And finding these pieces and putting them together like a puzzle is giving me a feeling of empowerment. It’s nice. I don’t know how long it will last, but I’ll take it for now. For now, it is enough.