Coming out of an episode of clinical depression is comparable to when Dorothy opens the door to the land of Oz.
But, everything isn’t vivid color. I begin to see some color, and it is such a relief that I get a little giddy, but I’m filled with trepidation. Is it real? How long will it be real?
I notice some greens, then some blues, yellows, and so on–until it’s there–red! All vivid, and I have a sense that everything will be okay.
But, I revert back to the behavior of pretending. I don’t see the colors on some days. I think they’re behind me–but nope. I get smacked with that old obsessive thought monster. Thinking myself away from that monster takes a herculean effort some days–days on end–practicing mindful thinking with patience, instead of impatience.
How does one live with, and have patience with a person who struggles to get out of bed each day?
I feel as if I have to hide my behavior from my family. Hurting them, continues to deepen my sadness. Honestly, it makes me a rotten person to be around–I can’t even stand to be around myself.
Knowing how to stop the focus of what is bad, imperfect, or out of my control–that’s the trick.
I want—but I can’t get out of my own way.
Learning how to face my fears that prevent me from doing what I want, is a stinkin’ daily battle, and I’m growing rather tired of forcing myself to do anything–everything–something.
Some day, I will master living with loving mindfulness, especially for myself.
I simply wish I had more confidence.
Meh, I’ll go climb, and conquer another crap pile. I’m finding that my accomplishments to clear the physical chaos is starting to have some benefit.