This dusty and sticky cocoon of listlessness is claustrophobic at best. At worst… it’s just soooo boring.
Perhaps that’s one of the reasons I think it’ll never really claim me. Not fully. Not forever. Not to the point I can’t eventually pick myself up, even if I do need a little help.
Thing is, I get disgusted with it all in the end. The waste of time and space. Missing the beautiful weather and doing absolutely nothing.
For days. Hiding away, shirking my connection to this world – nature, people, fresh air, self-respect.
But it comes and goes.
Interesting for the first few days, perhaps, sort of. Or, just all-consuming. When the worst of the darkness has passed and I’m still alive and breathing, then… what then?
Need to stop staying up all night (waiting for… what exactly?), start waking up at a decent time, have a shower in the mornings instead of late in the day (if at all), feed myself nourishing food and re-engage with my dignity as a human being.
Dignity, just for being alive.
It’s called Vajra pride – or relating to the world as if you and Shiva (or God or the Universe, or whatever you call it, or not) are one. You are the sun, you are the creative force, you’re already all of these things. And if you are those things, then how does it feel to relate to the world like that?
Now as meanings go, sure, that’s contrived. Like they all are. But it’s a heck of a lot better to relate to that kind of meaning than some others that’ve been floating around in my mind of late.
My Guru once explained that depression is a high energy state, even though it appears to be the opposite. That, maintaining such repression of the Self, is like trying to hold a basketball underwater. You can do it, but its not the natural state of things and it takes a fair bit of effort. And that when the ball is released, it shoots upwards. All that kinetic energy is finally available. So what are you gonna do with it?
Kind of annoying, but good to be aware that once you’ve let depression in, you’re always susceptible. I’ve never felt quite as crushingly awful as I have in the last couple of weeks.
But you know, I never let my susceptibility to anything get in the way before now. For years I had this crazy cyst in my toe which meant it was weak and wearing high heels would hurt. Eventually, I had to give up my weekend job as a bellydancer in the Arabic clubs and restaurants of Sydney because it hurt so much. But after a while, I started dancing again. Took up Muay Thai (kick boxing), too.
Eventually, it broke and I had surgery and now its mostly better. But still, there’s no 12″ heels in my closet.
Last week, my therapist asked me for the first time, if I’ve ever considered medication. And to be honest, I haven’t. Never been big on using pharmaceuticals. Even once scoffed at a doctor who wanted to give me pain meds for my broken ribs. Thank goodness I took the script for that one, though!
Maybe I’m a sucker for punishment, but at the same time and as I told my therapist, unless I find myself unable to get out of bed for two weeks straight, then I’d rather deal with whatever comes up head on.