This post was going to be one I’d written on happily-ever-afters but I woke up in a bit of a mood. So, my little piece on HEAs has been pushed back in favour of a whine and a rant.
I’m tired of celebrating small achievements. It gets old. It feels pathetic.
I feel pathetic.
Yes, I know I shouldn’t and yes, I know that’s one of the ways depression takes you down but seriously, I’ve started to hate positive self-talk. I’m not interested in telling myself I’m doing well. Because seriously, compared to my former life, my achievement bar is set pretty low. I now give myself props for the smallest of things: You got dressed; good for you. Congrats on washing your face. You brushed your teeth before 2 p.m. – kudos. And look at you, wearing make-up. Good job.
It feels so patronizing and pathetic at times.
My depression is in the ascendency and I’m feeling sorry for myself. I’ve been trying to surf the wave, to remind myself that it’ll pass. It always does, after all. Depression ebbs and flows. Sometime it’s weeks, sometimes it’s months, but it always passes. Unfortunately, knowing and feeling are often at odds and today I feel like it’s already been forever and the thought of doing this dance for the rest of my life is a little off-putting.
Sometimes survival isn’t enough. You really start to question the point. What good is insight and self-knowledge and understanding and empathy if I can’t get out of my damn chair? When I’m down is never a good time to ask “is this all there is?” It’s been bugging me for a bit and today I’m feeling irate.
This particular mood often hitches a ride when I’m in a self-pitying state of mind. And sometimes, I do feel sorry for myself. I’m nowhere close to being a saint. I get downright pissed off at the unfairness of the whole thing. Why was my life my life, and why is my biology the way it is? How come I didn’t get an easier road?
Depression makes me quick to anger. I definitely sweat the small stuff. I end up spoiling for a fight, hoping someone will cut me off in traffic or say something to offend. Then I could let loose this anger that feels so itchy underneath my skin. I know I can attribute a lot of these feelings to the fact that I’m depressed but I don’t want to. I don’t care. I want the mad.
This too will pass. Everything passes. It’s just that sometimes, that’s not as comforting a thought as one might hope. Sometimes, I want to embrace all the dark ugly. Sometimes, I want to quit. I don’t want to fight, or surf the wave, or even get dressed. I want to forget why I wanted to remember to do those things in the first place.
These are dark and scary little moments, these bits and pieces of time where you give up. They tend to make me a little ashamed. Who am I, after all, to give in?
What do you do then, when days like that show up, when none of the tricks to get you through are working, when the positive self-talk is falling flat, and the battle seems interminable, and the road you’re on seems to stretch up an impassable incline infinitely? What do you do next when the Buddhism and Stoicism are broken for the day?
If you’re me, you proceed thusly.
You wallow. You complain to your therapist. You vent your anger. You bitch about people who offer up already-thought-of-solutions that mostly don’t work and are especially annoying when what you’re seeking is validation for your feelings and for someone to hear you. Sometimes, you just need a witness to the crazy.
And when you’re done, you get back on the horse. I thought about creating a new cliché to express that sentiment, but why fix what isn’t broken? You get back on the horse, you go back to the plan, you keep on keepin’ on. I plan to keep living so recovery’s really the only option on the table.
Keep working the daily routines. Keep practicing the boundaries. Keep trying to stay in the moment. Keep working on being the best I can be and not comparing that to what other people have achieved.
Keep fighting. It gets tiring. It gets old. It’s okay to take a moment, to feel sorry for yourself, to have regrets. But when the moment is over, keep going. And be a little proud. It’s okay to get props for making it this far.
Do you ever feel like throwing a temper tantrum?