I knew I was swimming in it but I didn’t want to admit it. Being, feeling, accelerating felt too good to pass it up to a manic state, I wanted to own it as a success, a showing of the work I have been doing. Knowing all too well, however, that to take full ownership of this high meant very well that I would have to do the same for the low that would follow. But I kept it under the radar to a point. And any enthusiasms that burst out of me I allowed in moderation, I allowed them to drive me, my days and my interactions. I let them be a positive force in my days and hoped I wasn’t too much for anyone. Sluff it off as this is me, and if it’s too much for them, maybe that’s not my business. But I headed caution in wrapping my identity around the way I felt, as I had the sense that it was fleeting. I know the cycle, and life doesn’t get to feel this easeful all the time. So to just enjoy the current that has picked me up and carries me in the direction I wish to go. I sometimes leave interactions a little out of breath and aware that I did most of the talking, the expressing. Feeling a little questionable about what impression I may have made on them, that the out of control part of me slipped a bit. And again, I remind myself of the perfectly imperfection I humanly am, and just take advantage of the momentum fueling me and all that I am immersed in. Partly convinced that I will carry this momentum into new starts, partly aware of my limits, a cautionary whisper to give attention to boundaries.
Then the tell-signs start to leak in. Waking up feeling tired, blah. But find the thermal current and sail eventually, it just takes a bit into my day to find that familiar momentum. I keep up. Then I start to forget. Nothing specific, just random details, or what I scheduled for tomorrow, as if parts of my brain are covered with fuzzy static. Magnetic thoughts, the same go-to fantasies that bring me feelings of comfort in sad moments, and sad in comfortable moments. Losses, what-if’s, anywhere but here and now, drifting into alternate realities. Criticism find the microphone, assumptions of rejection and worst case scenarios. It is here when I am confronted with the reality of the sinking ship, slowly and steadily, but inevitable, seawater swirling around my ankles. I notice I start to avoid bedtime and sleep in. I pace in dissatisfaction of lack of productivity melded with muddy concentration. I ask my partner to repeat what he just told me, slower, as the words tangled as they enter my comprehension. The list that was created while in full power mode still applies, but I start to fall behind, as my ability to function at an optimal pace falters.
This is where it counts. What I do here will determine what’s next. I’ve been through this cycle so many times I know my options. There are two:
This is where it counts. What I do here will determine what’s next. I’ve been through this cycle so many times I know my options. There are two:
One.
I cling to the coulds and want-to’s, which have now transformed into shoulds and have-to’s so tightly my flame fizzles out, my flicker goes dark. I am in a cloud of sad. I bask in the shame that confirms the notion I am not good enough. I know this place well. There’s a security in it, in declaring victim status, a reason to bring out the invisibility cape and retreat. I look for all the ways I can identify with this state, claiming blame, claiming shame, claiming lame.I own it and assume irresponsibility all at once. I latch to the spiral that confirms my insignificance and isolate. Nobody understands me, I have nothing to offer, I am not worthy of being loved. Still I long to be saved. I wallow in the non-truths, the not-haves, the impossibles. I stay here a while, until things get bad in my marriage, or the kids start to change how they interact with me. Until something seemingly important enough finds a switch, and in the abrupt change of light I snap out of it, and start the treacherous climb back out. Only in surrendering to the force pushing me down do I start to drift into the pockets that have somehow dodged the current, and start to rise up. The less I push back the more naturally I float to the surface. I find air again. I start to breath again. I survive. I start to repair the holes in my raft, looking back trying to find traces of grace in what I just experienced.
Two.
My flame is smaller but still there and my most important job is to protect it from going out. So I shift in expectations, slow down and prioritize my needs. It changes dynamics in my relationships a little, but I know enough to know it is needed to ease through this. Shoulds and have-to’s are no longer in my vocabulary, or at least they are hushed. I pay cautious attention to what my heart is calling for, choosing to love to nurture the ache I feel inside over the expectation to nurture what I so easily took care of in my previous momentum. My boat needs less weight so I let some go. Relieve expectations, set aside my need to please, shift my focus inward enough to stay tuned into my environment. My attention is balanced between tending to my needs and hauling water out of my boat, managing safe levels for the time being, until I find the tools for greater repair. I rest when I feel the need to rest. I say no when I feel my energy sink at the thought of saying yes. I pay close attention to what weighs me down and what lifts me up moment to moment, responding accordingly and not taking hold of the strings the shame tries to hand over when I choose myself. I choose not to take company to those worth-crushing voices that call up to me, and laugh off their attempts. I know this game. I know what you are trying to do. Not fallin’ for it today, chum. Today I choose love and grace. I choose to define my worth innately, not how others may perceive me, not by the stories, nor how my level of functioning compares now to yesterday.
...
I notice something in option two, which is not as familiar to me.
Moments of bliss. Moments of joy, mixed in between the sorrowful layers. And with these moments,a sort of permission in the letting go. In the un-identifying, un-judging. Permission to feel, to bounce between ups and downs beneath this overlaying cloud I normally call depression. But to let go of the label, is to release the grips of it. To let go of the depressed-not depressed duality mentality brings an allowance to feel the moment. Making room to move between sadness and joy in a moment’s notice.
This is OK?
When I am allowed to be what I am, there is no expectation to be anything else. Expectations released, judgement released, only leaving room for the grace of being, and feelings flow freely. No one more or less important than another when we remove the expectations; they just are,I just am.
And this IS OK!
A vessel opens inside of me and I can breath more easily, regardless of how I am perceived, regardless of circumstances, regardless of yesterday...regardless. A softening forming in my congested body. I find bliss even in sadness, comfort in acceptance, and full immersion in the moment of here and now. Even in the appearingly mundane surroundings, miracle hints through the fullness of presence. What I felt before and what I will feel later do not have to define what I feel now.
A brightening intelligence in me letting go of the security that ties me to the past and future imaginings, even finding thrills in the freedom of moving with such ease through the current current. Of letting go of the need for control, by reaching towards acceptance and trust. Acceptance of the now, trust in the here. Significance rises in this current state I find myself in, purpose in the slowing down, returning into myself.
Bliss accompanied by sorrow. Ha! It is all so curious, isn’t it? When you can let go of the world how you grew up to know, and open to something new in the flow. It turns out the significance isn’t out in those far away places from which I have retreated, but within arm’s reach any time I choose to choose.
I’'ll take option two, please.
I’'ll take option two, please.
