Switchbacks

As long as I live, I may never understand life. They say that variety is the spice of life, and perhaps it is the surprise that keeps our curiosity alive, and our wonder. I've talked before about the vagaries of life, how during a short span, one can experience such highs and lows of sensation and emotion that it staggers the imagination. 

The last weeks, for me, have been a fog of depression. Like going about blindfolded, or half asleep. Unable to slow down, to identify or process, and yet unable to stop the influx of information, stress, and grief of the world. Incapable of focusing on anything except the uncomfy ache in the pit of your stomach, or the silent groan within your chest, that says everything is not okay, and there's no promise it ever will be.

I hope you haven't felt like this, but if you have, you'll know that despite the best efforts of those who love you, you are practically unreachable. Even those who listen to your pain and confusion, can only hold space for you, not pull you out. For me, in my walk with God, it is harder still. Because all my motivation to do hard things has been stolen, and everything feels hard. It's as if all the ordinary circumstances, words, and positions in life, have been flagged with trauma-triggers, and anything that doesn't sound like relief, sounds like hell. 

If this is news to you, then all I can say is, be gentle with your fellow-humans. And if it's not, I'm sorry. I'm here. The real me is still winning. And believe it or not I am here to talk about relief. About what happens after, or in the middle, or between, that renews our great hope. How it can come upon you suddenly, and make you believe in the world again. And how sometimes, you find that the real you has come through strong and true.  

Let me tell you about a few nights ago. I was sitting at my desk, where I am now, listening to classical film scores, wearing my blue-light lenses and typing on my laptop. I thought, Ah yes, this is the life I want. And then my head came up, as if to look around, to check my horizons. My brain had just said i love my life of its own accord. It was such a drastic jump, I was startled. Is this really happening? I took a deep breath, waiting for the dread. 

But no, I felt lighter. There was still sadness and grief to be found in my mind and heart, but I no longer felt I was drowning. I had been handed back the reigns, as it were. When negative thoughts and emotions arose, I was able to notice and identify them, accept them and let them go. I hadn't felt this much control in a long time. We are often told by excellent coaches and counselors, that we have control over how we feel and respond; over our emotions, and how we let the world affect us. And often that is true; but not always. Not when you're in such survival mode that you're treading water, with weakening arms, just to keep the faith. ((When I still believe in the goodness of God feels razor sharp against your desperation, when everything in you is screaming that the evidence is gone. But you say it anyway.))

I even noticed that night, whenever I awoke in the night (which I do constantly these days), even my sub-conscious, half-asleep self peacefully put my thoughts to rest and slowly listed things I was grateful for until I fell asleep again. It's like, I was on the right channel, there was just interference.

I'm not sure how long this will last, or what brought me to this place exactly. But I know I'm going to enjoy it while it's here. I will use my freed mind and heart to thank God, to choose positivity, to settle into the beautiful life I have. To appreciate every moment, and stay in the now. To move slowly, as if through water, breathing deep. I will use the clarity of now to process what I've been kept from processing before. I will use my insights into life and mental health to promote further healing in myself and others. 

To be awake again is a glorious thing.

And if ever you're wanting to know me better, but just can't figure me out... oh same, love, same.