I’ve been having trouble meditating of late. I have a serious case of monkey brain and can’t seem to stop following trains of thought. The state of the world. Climate change. Politics. My kids. My parents. The oft-annoying cat. My depression. My self-harm. Last week’s episode of Grey’s Anatomy. Did I remember to add bleach to the grocery list? My thoughts bounce like balls in my head...
I want to be a real boy. Or girl, in this case. And for me, “real” means whole and cohesive and I’m not. It’s one of the things mental illness does. I’m working on getting it back...
"The thing I hate most about my depression is that when it’s here, when it’s on the upswing and taking over, who I am disappears. I get lost amidst the blackness, drowned in the sorrow, burned up in the anger. All that is me starts to vanish and I’m terrified I’ll never get myself back..."
"I’ve been trying something new with my meditation, now that I’m back to doing it semi-regularly. I’ve been meditating with my eyes open. It’s an odd experience. It makes me feel vulnerable and I don’t like it; generally speaking, vulnerability is not something I do well..."
"it’s challenging when it feels like your brain is out of your control; when it persists in thinking thoughts you’d rather it didn’t...i have spent a significant quantity of time ranting and raving over my inability to shut down my brain and to deny these thoughts life. no matter the internal or external volume, repeatedly berating myself didn’t work. something new was needed..."
"i started a regular meditation practice a little over a year ago on the advice of my counsellor. it took a while to develop it into a habit – it’s so much easier to adopt negative behaviours."
my depression is singular. it’s hearing only one note. tasting only one flavour. seeing only one colour. it overwhelms everything and turns the experience of life into monochrome rather than a palette of complexities and nuances.