Tag Archives: depression

There’s a screaming monster in my head

I can’t run away from it. I can’t get it to be quiet. Every little thing pokes it and makes it angrier.

Today is not a good day. The monster inside my head is old but no less powerful when she’s thrashing about.

I’m reading a book about the art of loving. I’m practising loving kindness meditation. I’m writing about gratitude in my journal. I’m doing all the things that I should be doing to escape the monster.

Maybe it is not the escaping that I should be focusing on. Maybe it is the loving, the meditating, the gratitude.

These are all just items on a checklist. My daily Things To Do To Get Through.

What’s that saying? “The only way out is through.”

Or the other one: “You grow through what you go through.”

Maybe I should love the monster; offer her some loving kindness; fill her with loving presence; extend gratitude to her for sticking with me, for making me hear her.

Maybe she’s not a monster. Maybe she’s my greatest protector, my strongest voice, my biggest defender…and I’ve rarely listened to her. No wonder she’s so angry.

I’ve ignored her wisdom about us. I’ve taken on too much. I’ve told too many stories to myself and about myself that don’t match up with values that I haven’t yet solidified.

I’m in a valley right now on my journey. I’ve come down a hill and now I’m facing another climb. It feels hard. But knowing that life is all valleys and hills and rarely a flat road helps.

I will sit with my monster for a while and build up strength for the climb.

The tsunami off the coast

For about three weeks now, I’ve been feeling the slight rumblings of what I think will be something terrible.

It’s like the ground is shaking ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly and very deep down.

I can feel the tilt in my world; not noticeable enough for anyone else to feel it. No one is asking if I’m OK. But I know it’s coming.

It’s far off the coast right now, roiling and boiling in its darkness. It’s deep; it’s dark; it will be all-encompassing when it comes. It will move things that I have put in place and wash away things that I need to have. It will probably flatten me and drag me around and injure me and suck me under.

It starts small. A forgotten task on a to-do list. A chore that I keep putting off. Later mornings, sleepless nights. Ignored reminders and skipped meditations. More junk food and less good food.

The bad habits creep back. The good habits start to slide. I spend more time angry and negative and less time upbeat and hopeful.

I can tell it’s coming by the books I choose to read: Atomic Habits by James Clear, Everything is F*cked: A Book About Hope by Mark Manson. I’m trying to ward off the storm. I’m trying to find my way back inland before the tidal wave hits the beach. I’m not succeeding.

I’m buried up to my knees in thick, wet sand and every step is a full-body effort. The fear that I won’t make it to high ground in time slows me down even more. It soaks through my brain like the spray from the ever more violent ocean. The tectonic plates that I can’t see, the ones that form a stable foundation for my ocean, are starting to shift and push against each other. They come alive in revolt because I’ve not been doing what I promised to do. I’ve not been building on my solid foundation. I’ve been tired and weak and whiny. I’ve been letting my foundation slip. And the slipping will cause a tsunami.

I see small breaks in the clouds as rays of sun shine on the dark ocean. They brighten those spots and I feel that if I can just get to them and bask in the sun for a bit, I can help calm the ocean before the tsunami builds way out there and crashes over me, dragging me around and tearing me away from solid ground.

The tsunami is coming.

But the tsunami can be calmed.

I will meditate every morning for at least 10 minutes right after I workout.

I will write one page every morning before I log in to my computer.

I will drink green or herbal tea instead of coffee after I have one coffee each day.

I will snack on fruits and veggies each day.

I can calm the tsunami.