Mom is happily watching her 49ers play while I’m tucked inside the “cooling room”, the only room in the house where I can bring the temperature down to a livable level for me…like in the mid 60s. With headphones and a stockpile of cookies you’d think I’d be a happy camper, but no. I’m irritated, my eyes want to pull down the lids and block out the world. I’ve only taken my puppy upper pills this morning but that’s about it. I need to change that so I don’t miss them any more. I can be such an idiot sometimes. I know better, I’ve seen the difference in myself between medicated and non medicated, the world knows the difference when I’m medicated or not medicated. And yet I let these slips happen. I’m such an idiot.
I want to just hide away in my room, in my bed where it’s safe. And I would too, if my mother could take care of herself in the least. She likes having a lady-in-waiting. It fulfills her imagined royal imagining that she is of royal blood, the she was ripped from the courts of the refined and noble world and put into the mire with the rest of us peasants. I’m not kidding. It’s put more sarcastically than I probably should state, but since I discovered that we really are related to the Plantagenet kings of England it has amplified her delusions of royalty. I haven’t researched the bloodline but I’m sure we’re there by way of a Fitz-Something*.
Okay, I know, cranky. If I had the patience I’d try to write this out in my journal, or if I had the energy I’d try to get some work done or my beads put together. I’ve decided that when I can sit and do 100 Om Mani Padme Hum’s in one sitting with beads interspersed for deep breaths then I will have the discipline to move into a more focused, or Zen like mediation. That is a worthy thing to do, especially for the Sabbath, but F it, I think I’ll take a nap instead.
- to go back to school to spiff up my phlebotomy credentials (long story)
- to write at night and on weekends
- to have a clean and neat room, with my bed made and laundry done
- to go on hikes on weekends and maybe learn to Glamp from time to time
- to make jewelry for gifts and for myself….maybe even to sell
- to keep working a full time job so I can have a full time pay
- 8hrs a day on a less than taxing job but still need to take a nap in my car
- I’m registering for school but will have to do it in person instead of online, terrified I’ll sleep through it or fail
- I clean my room by turning off the light and turning on the TV
- I get out of bed late on weekends and then require a few naps to get through the day
- The thought of pulling out and putting away all my jewelry making stuff is exhausting in itself
- Honestly, I don’t know how I’ve been able to keep a full time job.
Okay, I’m tired right now. I really have no reason to be, other than I stayed up too late last night. But when I’m in these moods I wonder if I will ever be able to have a normal life, if I’ve ever had a normal life. My Mom is insistent that I just need to “push through” and “fight back” and basically “get over it” and I will be fine. Sometimes I think she’s right, very rarely, and I try and spin myself back out of control. I think I need a routine…a “doing” and slowly build from there. I keep changing this idea of what my day should look like beyond going to work, going home, going to bed, getting up and going to work, going home, going to bed.
Right now I’m thinking that Mediation is the direction I should be going in. Of course I can’t do that until I have a space cleaned in my room, which means I need to work in my room, which means I need to do my laundry and find a meditation pillow and make hand knotted-silk strung beads and a tassel for meditation……See how the wanting and the doing are always dancing?
I need to……….
- I don’t need a clean room to do it
- I don’t need my laundry clean to do it
- I don’t need a special pillow to do it
- I don’t need specially strung beads to do it (yet, I want them because it means shopping and creating)
The only thing I need to do is make time. Or in my case take time. And take comfort in the hope that the needful will allow for the mental space for doing the wanting.
I’m reading Zen Path Through Depression. At the end of each chapter it has a suggested meditation to follow. I haven’t had the space to do that lately. It’s not like my Simply Being App which is just sitting and listening to the woman talking, which is simply easy, has done me a world of good when I remember. It requires the listener to blank out ones mind and focus on the moment. If thoughts creep in, let them creep out, notice everything around you (with your eyes shut, of course). I’m not ready, I don’t think, to not have a guide with me to keep me on the path of meditation and not getting snarled in a bunch of dark and spiky thoughts which are always toed-up to the line to jump in and distract me.
What I found really interesting was that Zen requires a focus spot and to imagine yourself up on a huge hill, feel the air and the freedom and the expanse. Then you invite your depression into the meditation and take a good look at it. This is where I’m lost. I have no idea what depression looks like. I thought it was like a big sucking black hole of hopelessness or some sort of snarling animal that wants to, at any weak moment, devour me whole. I realize I have to identify it, name it and then tame it into a space where I retain the lessons learned from it but our of the way and reach so it can no longer leach time and bar my talents from expression. I’ve been a firm believer that if you don’t learn your lessons from life you are doomed to live the same trial over and over again until you master it. I feel like I’m finally pushing through.
There’s this story that I know that gives me hope that my trials will be for good:
“Once there was a man, thin, weak and penniless. He pled with God to help him. God responded with “My son, push on this rock,” So the man set to the task of pushing the rock every day. He would get up push on the rock, go home, eat and get up and do it all over again. After a while the man is no longer thin or weak but he had huge muscles on his arms and abdomen and chest. He threw his arms up to go and said “Why do you have me pushing around this rock when it’s too heavy for me to move by myself. God responds back with “Oh, my son, I never told you to move the rock, just push. Now you are ready to do that which I have chosen for you.”
I know that Heavenly Father has a plan for each and every one of us, and it has a lot of trials in it. One way to look at it is the greater the trials the greater His love and the greater good you are meant to do in the world. He never forgets us, never throws us under the bus for a greater person because we are His, and He loves us each unconditionally and individually. I don’t always feel that in my life, but it helps to know it’s true.