When I am depressed, I feel hopeless and alone. I feel like there is no one there to support me, and that because of that, I will never have the strength to make my life better. I feel like if only there were one person who believed in me, then I could manage. I also feel self-destructive impulses. I want to eat junk food, not healthy food. I want to stay up late, not go to bed on time. I feel (but don't worry, I won't do these things) like cutting myself or jumping off from a height.
When I'm happy, I feel like the song in my heart is so strong that no negative events in my life can quell it. I feel like I can take risks, because I will be okay. If I fall, I will just get right back up with a smile and go on with loving life.
Druids know life is cyclical. Sometimes I'll be depressed. Sometimes I'll be happy. That's how life is. That's okay.
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
Balcony holiday
Holiday today. Day off work. I've committed to attend an event this evening, but I'm free for the day. How do I wish to spend my day? Three things I could do: 1) Go out and enjoy the beauty of the day, gaze at trees, rollerblade, kayak, listen to the birds, 2) Go to my office. I'm very behind on my work and it's my fault because I have not been doing a good job of focusing. Sometimes it's easier to focus when no one is there, like today. 3) Stay home and work on my various chores, such as figuring out a different job, figuring out what maintenance needs to be done on my car, paying my bills, sorting through the clutter.
I sit on my balcony. There are lots of birds. Some I hear but do not see. Some I see. I see a finch, a cardinal. I like seeing the birds. I should go out in the woods and be still, still until the birds are no longer afraid, and I can watch them and listen to them.
I am here, and I am still, and the birds are no longer afraid. On my balcony, I'm closer to the branches than I would be on the ground in the woods.
Three crows land in the tree next to me. They are so large. Why three? Don't birds usually travel either as flocks or as pairs?
I hear the sound of a gull in the distance. I don't often hear gulls around here. The gull sounds like the sea. The sea is embedded deep in my heart. The sound of the gull touches there. It pierces me like a teardrop.
So many different birds are talking. Are there usually this many? Usually I am here in the evening. Are there more because it's morning? It's not sunrise though, it's four hours after sunrise.
To humans, it seems the birds sing because they are happy. To humans, the flight of birds is freedom. I feel it on my lunch hour -- I see the hawk soaring, and I feel I've escaped the pressures of my job.
I don't know why birds really sing. I mean, I think they sing to attract a mate, to warn of danger, to declare their territory, but I don't know why they sing at sunrise, or why they are singing now.
Whatever the birds do, they aren't trying to decide whether to spend the day kayaking or applying for jobs. It seems a simple life -- eat, mate, build a nest, raise the young, travel in spring and fall to a more pleasant climate. It seems like an enviable life.
But lives of birds are short, and I find joy in many things not known to birds.
The squirrel runs along the tree trunk. The squirrel is the same color as the tree. You can see the squirrel was meant to be there.
And I was born to be human. Human is what I am, where I belong. Human, sitting on balcony, pondering the sound of birds. This is what I am meant to be. This is what I am.
I sit on my balcony. There are lots of birds. Some I hear but do not see. Some I see. I see a finch, a cardinal. I like seeing the birds. I should go out in the woods and be still, still until the birds are no longer afraid, and I can watch them and listen to them.
I am here, and I am still, and the birds are no longer afraid. On my balcony, I'm closer to the branches than I would be on the ground in the woods.
Three crows land in the tree next to me. They are so large. Why three? Don't birds usually travel either as flocks or as pairs?
I hear the sound of a gull in the distance. I don't often hear gulls around here. The gull sounds like the sea. The sea is embedded deep in my heart. The sound of the gull touches there. It pierces me like a teardrop.
So many different birds are talking. Are there usually this many? Usually I am here in the evening. Are there more because it's morning? It's not sunrise though, it's four hours after sunrise.
To humans, it seems the birds sing because they are happy. To humans, the flight of birds is freedom. I feel it on my lunch hour -- I see the hawk soaring, and I feel I've escaped the pressures of my job.
I don't know why birds really sing. I mean, I think they sing to attract a mate, to warn of danger, to declare their territory, but I don't know why they sing at sunrise, or why they are singing now.
Whatever the birds do, they aren't trying to decide whether to spend the day kayaking or applying for jobs. It seems a simple life -- eat, mate, build a nest, raise the young, travel in spring and fall to a more pleasant climate. It seems like an enviable life.
But lives of birds are short, and I find joy in many things not known to birds.
The squirrel runs along the tree trunk. The squirrel is the same color as the tree. You can see the squirrel was meant to be there.
And I was born to be human. Human is what I am, where I belong. Human, sitting on balcony, pondering the sound of birds. This is what I am meant to be. This is what I am.
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
Some factors affecting mood and energy
While depression and joy, fatigue and energy, do come and go to a certain extent without cause, there are some external factors that make a difference, so I can try to do my best to optimize conditions to increase the likelihood of joy and energy rather than depression and fatigue. Some things that I do know are:
- My moods are very much affected by my physical state. When I have fatigue, I feel hopeless. When I have energy, I feel optimistic. Usually when I get depressed, I also get a sore throat, so it's clear there is a physical connection.
- There are times when I've had enough, when I need some relaxation. If I push myself to do things that I'm too tired to do, I may become unhappy. If I allow myself to live at my own pace, to do restful things, I may find great happiness in what I'm doing.
- Having someone be consistently there for me helps keep me even-keeled. Sometimes I've had that in my life, other times I haven't. I have that now, someone I talk to on the phone daily. It means that when I get tired, sometimes it can be just that, just tired, without spiraling into despair.
Ride the waves
Depression and joy, Energy and fatigue. They come and go in and out of my life of their own accord. Like humans. Like butterflies. I cannot predict. I cannot control. I can only ride the waves. Riding the waves can be a beautiful thing, as long as there is more joy than depression, more energy than fatigue.
Indulging depression
Last August, there was a post to the Naturalistic Pagans email list about how to respond to being depressed. The suggestion was attributed to The Depression Book by Cheri Huber. The idea was to eat chocolate cake and watch depressing movies.
I think maybe I'll try that next time I get depressed. Not the cake and movies, but the idea of indulging my feelings rather than banishing them. Indulging is what I usually do anyhow, to a certain extent, but I should try embracing the indulgence, rather than telling myself that I should do something that would cheer me up, like exercise. Indulging does seem to work. After some time, I hit bottom, and then I'm fine. Maybe the more I indulge my depression, the sooner I'll hit bottom and recover.
At least for me, that's the kind of depression that I get. It's normally something that just comes for one evening, and then it's gone the next morning. For someone who has a more chronic situation, perhaps they wouldn't have that experience of hitting bottom and then bouncing back.
It doesn't have to be just depression. Any time there's something I'm trying to banish, instead, I can listen to it. For example, I hate the whole employment thing. I do make progress on trying to figure out different ways of earning a living, but at the same time, I'm always feeling I should be doing more. In this case, the thing that I'm trying to banish is the fear that I'm not doing enough, and the fear that because I never do enough, I'll always be stuck in the same place. Indulgence would mean wallowing in self-loathing for not doing enough. After that wallowing, maybe I would realize that I'm doing the best I can, or maybe I would be motivated to do more. Either way, maybe I could come to some acceptance.
I think maybe I'll try that next time I get depressed. Not the cake and movies, but the idea of indulging my feelings rather than banishing them. Indulging is what I usually do anyhow, to a certain extent, but I should try embracing the indulgence, rather than telling myself that I should do something that would cheer me up, like exercise. Indulging does seem to work. After some time, I hit bottom, and then I'm fine. Maybe the more I indulge my depression, the sooner I'll hit bottom and recover.
At least for me, that's the kind of depression that I get. It's normally something that just comes for one evening, and then it's gone the next morning. For someone who has a more chronic situation, perhaps they wouldn't have that experience of hitting bottom and then bouncing back.
It doesn't have to be just depression. Any time there's something I'm trying to banish, instead, I can listen to it. For example, I hate the whole employment thing. I do make progress on trying to figure out different ways of earning a living, but at the same time, I'm always feeling I should be doing more. In this case, the thing that I'm trying to banish is the fear that I'm not doing enough, and the fear that because I never do enough, I'll always be stuck in the same place. Indulgence would mean wallowing in self-loathing for not doing enough. After that wallowing, maybe I would realize that I'm doing the best I can, or maybe I would be motivated to do more. Either way, maybe I could come to some acceptance.
Monday, July 2, 2012
Dance of joy
I am so blessed. I am blessed to have a job that allows me to live in the home of my choice, free of roommates. I have a great clear living room floor. I put on a CD and I dance and I sing.
No one there to tell me I can't carry a tune. No one there to tell me I look dorky when I dance. No one living below to complain that I stomp on the floor. No one there to tell me I sing too loud. No one there to tell me when I get the lyrics wrong.
I am free. I sing my heart out. I dance my heart out. The joy swirling about the room is palpable.
I dance to the music of a 70's hippie rock band, Spirit in Flesh. I have loved this music since I was little.
My first memory of the music is from hearing the band perform live at their commune. I was about five years old. Moved by the music, I got up and spun around and around.
The music still makes me soar. It's the sound I respond to most. I found two of the songs on YouTube, so I've included those below to give a taste of it. Also here are some of the lyrics that I like:
Two snippets from "The Jack Baker Song." I am trying to transcribe them from the recording, but I know I don't have it quite right:
"The wise man tend his thoughts with love and care
and the roses, happiness and sunshine there."
and
"To find the good in everyone we come to
I'm sure that's the way we ought to be
To constantly return good for evil
And shine the light for those who cannot see"
When I was a kid dancing to this music, I did not give much thought to what the lyrics meant. Then I grew up to be a druid Quaker pantheist, and discovered that the lyrics expressed my beliefs. The second snippet above from "The Jack Baker Song" describes Quakerism, and the bit below from "Riverside Song" describes pantheism.
Once I sat by the riverside
I saw the force that made it go
And as I sat by the riverside
I found myself in the flow
I was a tree
I was a river
I was the wind that swept and shook the tide
I was all the things that I had left behind
My spirit is the very same force set the river on its way
My spirit is the very same force that makes the pine trees sway
I was a tree I was a river
I was the wind that swept and shook the tide
I was all the things that I had left behind
Once I sat by the riverside
Watching the force
Wondering how things could be as they are
Suddenly I realized the river and I were one
Music, dance, singing, art -- they tap into the heart, they give the heart expression. A little spark of joy becomes a roaring bonfire.
I love the freedom to dance and sing in solitude, but I love to dance and sing with other people too. I am blessed that two days from now, I will get to sing with others, and I'm going to try to get in some dancing with them too.
When people sing and dance together, it strengthens the bonds of community between them.
I would love to bring the joy of singing and dancing to everyone. In this moment, I feel that if everyone could sing and dance together, there'd be no poverty because everyone would share what they had. Of course, it's not so simple. Just like it was not so simple when my great-great-great-grandmother crusaded for women to get the right to vote. She believed if women could vote, there would be no more war, because women would never vote in support of sending their husbands and brothers and sons into battle.
Nothing will fix all our problems, but singing and dancing sure help to inject joy into life, and to create good feelings between the people who do them together.
No one there to tell me I can't carry a tune. No one there to tell me I look dorky when I dance. No one living below to complain that I stomp on the floor. No one there to tell me I sing too loud. No one there to tell me when I get the lyrics wrong.
I am free. I sing my heart out. I dance my heart out. The joy swirling about the room is palpable.
I dance to the music of a 70's hippie rock band, Spirit in Flesh. I have loved this music since I was little.
My first memory of the music is from hearing the band perform live at their commune. I was about five years old. Moved by the music, I got up and spun around and around.
The music still makes me soar. It's the sound I respond to most. I found two of the songs on YouTube, so I've included those below to give a taste of it. Also here are some of the lyrics that I like:
Two snippets from "The Jack Baker Song." I am trying to transcribe them from the recording, but I know I don't have it quite right:
"The wise man tend his thoughts with love and care
and the roses, happiness and sunshine there."
and
"To find the good in everyone we come to
I'm sure that's the way we ought to be
To constantly return good for evil
And shine the light for those who cannot see"
When I was a kid dancing to this music, I did not give much thought to what the lyrics meant. Then I grew up to be a druid Quaker pantheist, and discovered that the lyrics expressed my beliefs. The second snippet above from "The Jack Baker Song" describes Quakerism, and the bit below from "Riverside Song" describes pantheism.
Once I sat by the riverside
I saw the force that made it go
And as I sat by the riverside
I found myself in the flow
I was a tree
I was a river
I was the wind that swept and shook the tide
I was all the things that I had left behind
My spirit is the very same force set the river on its way
My spirit is the very same force that makes the pine trees sway
I was a tree I was a river
I was the wind that swept and shook the tide
I was all the things that I had left behind
Once I sat by the riverside
Watching the force
Wondering how things could be as they are
Suddenly I realized the river and I were one
Music, dance, singing, art -- they tap into the heart, they give the heart expression. A little spark of joy becomes a roaring bonfire.
I love the freedom to dance and sing in solitude, but I love to dance and sing with other people too. I am blessed that two days from now, I will get to sing with others, and I'm going to try to get in some dancing with them too.
When people sing and dance together, it strengthens the bonds of community between them.
I would love to bring the joy of singing and dancing to everyone. In this moment, I feel that if everyone could sing and dance together, there'd be no poverty because everyone would share what they had. Of course, it's not so simple. Just like it was not so simple when my great-great-great-grandmother crusaded for women to get the right to vote. She believed if women could vote, there would be no more war, because women would never vote in support of sending their husbands and brothers and sons into battle.
Nothing will fix all our problems, but singing and dancing sure help to inject joy into life, and to create good feelings between the people who do them together.
Mood swings
I got hit by a depression last night. Now I'm happy again. I knew I would be. I was there last night, knowing that I was just being hit by a depression, knowing that I would feel better in the morning, knowing that I should just go to bed, but instead I just stayed awake. That's how it always goes. I know the things that I should do when I'm depressed -- go outside, exercise, listen to music, go to sleep (it's usually bedtime when depression strikes). When depression hits, I can still remember that these are the things I should do, but I'm paralyzed. I don't actually do them.
What I want at those times is a human connection. A kind word. Someone to be present with me.
What I don't want is someone who will
a) Tell me not to be depressed because I have a lot of good things in my life, or
b) Tell me what I should do to fix my life.
People who do either or both of the above just make it worse. For some reason, those are the two things most people do.
I've written before about what I want at those times, in "What to say to sick people and depressed people."
I always think I should be able to handle everything on my own, but it's okay to want someone to be there for me when I'm depressed.
Sometimes someone is there for me, and that makes it easier.
Other times, I face it on my own.
It's okay that the universe does not always hand us what we want.
Some things are easier with help, but we get by one way or the other anyhow.
I got by. It's gone now. Today I'm loving the music I'm listening to, and looking forward to going outside walking and rollerblading and looking at trees.
What I want at those times is a human connection. A kind word. Someone to be present with me.
What I don't want is someone who will
a) Tell me not to be depressed because I have a lot of good things in my life, or
b) Tell me what I should do to fix my life.
People who do either or both of the above just make it worse. For some reason, those are the two things most people do.
I've written before about what I want at those times, in "What to say to sick people and depressed people."
I always think I should be able to handle everything on my own, but it's okay to want someone to be there for me when I'm depressed.
Sometimes someone is there for me, and that makes it easier.
Other times, I face it on my own.
It's okay that the universe does not always hand us what we want.
Some things are easier with help, but we get by one way or the other anyhow.
I got by. It's gone now. Today I'm loving the music I'm listening to, and looking forward to going outside walking and rollerblading and looking at trees.
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