My brain seems to be such a mess. So many thoughts going on up there. But, mostly, it's just spinning, spinning, spinning, barely under my control... I feel like I spend half my time trying to ignore, turn off, or tune out out most of my thoughts. The ones that are filled with worry, self-doubt, fear, disappointment, and the like. And the other half of the time I try desperately to focus and remember what I need to get done, to prioritize, to be productive and positive. I end up being pretty ineffective at both. The negative thoughts continue and my efforts to be positive and productive are few and far between.
So, what to do?
Start a blog. Write it out. Get the thoughts out. Get honest. With myself. Get the negative out. Clear some room for more positivity and productiveness in my life. I'm blessed to know that "this too shall pass." Though I may feel horrible one day, one hour, one week, one year. This is not me. It is possible to feel different. It is possible to feel well. To feel happy. To feel carefree.
Though, now, the majority of my time is spent desperately fighting the depths of depression, trying to keep myself afloat; I know that somewhere out there is a place of peace, joy, and hope. For the most part, I feel anything but. Yet, I know those feelings are attainable. I have felt them before and believe it is possible to feel them again.
So, I guess by that definition, I do have hope. I guess it is kinda impossible to not have hope. At least, how I see it; for without hope, you're hopeless. If you think anything and everything is hopeless, and impossible to achieve, then why would you ever bother trying anything? Sadly, I have felt utterly hopeless in the past.
Several years ago, I experienced a severe depression that left me feeling virtually no concern for my own well-being and likewise barely any concern for how my actions hurt my loved ones. I was beyond caring. I could see myself spiraling downward, out of control, with no idea how to get out of it. I fell so far down, I got caught in the vortex and nothing I did could pull me out. I was so far down in a hole of hopelessness, I no longer cared about myself.
But, the love I had for my family was my one saving grace.
I was remarkably fortunate not to have caused any irreparable damage to myself or my family. Yet, even that is debatable.
Remember when I said I had lots of thoughts swirling? Yeah, this is kind of what I mean. I start on one topic, then tangent after tangent later, I end up talking about anything and everything. Okay, so not quite everything. But, my spouse does often complain that I can be often unbearable to listen to as I go on and on rambling ad nauseum before I ever get to my point. And, oh yeah, apparently, I never give a thesis statement either to clarify the point I'm trying to make. I guess that's because so often I'm still figuring out what exactly the point is that I'm trying to make. I think I know and then I get started talking (or writing) and in effect I end up actively processing my thoughts and emotions, as opposed to letting them just swirl around and around up in my head. Thinking about thinking. Metacognition. I do a lot of that. For me, I need to do more than just think. I need to express those thoughts, get them out, process them, connect the dots.
Case in point, I made a realization the other day that was absolutely phenomenal to me. All my life, I never knew why my father decided that at the age of 8, though my parents had divorced when I was almost 3, he wanted me to start visiting him regularly. When school was out, Christmas, Thanksgiving, summer vacation, I was at my dad's. But, to me, as a child, it was absolutely out of the blue. I didn't understand why one summer I got dropped off at my dad's house to spend the summer. I remember at that point feeling like, who was this guy? Oh. My... dad. Um... okay. And now I spend the next 3 months with him?
Clearly, prior to this time, I hadn't seen my dad regularly "enough," if at all, to have him make much of an impression on me. I remember my father dropping me off at my mother's house once when I was about 3 or 4. But, no other visits in between those two. And, of course, I never asked why I did or didn't see my father. I was just a little kid. I just lived my life as it came to me. Just living life on life's terms. Not knowing any different. That's just how it was. I don't know why my dad didn't see me for those years right after my parents divorced. But, over two decades later, I've just made a remarkable realization as to why he started seeing me again. It seems so tremendously obvious now. But, I never figured it out before.
When I was at the end of my 2nd grade year, my mother moved from our apartment that was just a few miles from my father's house. We moved about three and a half hours away. I never made the connection before that visiting my father's house over the summer coincided with my mother moving me a significant distance away from my father. He was trying to keep me, or not lose me, so to speak. When I was nearby, I didn't matter as much. But, when it seemed he was losing me, then I became important. At least, that's how it now seems to me. Perhaps he did see me occasionally in those early years. But, I don't remember it. This is one of those things I want to ask my mother, or if I'm feeling extremely brave, I could ask my father. To say the least, my relationships with my parents are very complicated, distant and tenuous.
I am amazed that it has taken me this long to make this realization. How could I have not seen it before? It was always a mystery to me. But now it makes total sense. I wasn't even trying to figure this out. It was just the simple act of recounting the facts of my childhood when it hit me. I know the power of letting out my thoughts and feelings instead of just keeping them trapped in my head where they spin around and around in my head and feel like they're tangled into a big incoherent, incomprehensible, mind-numbing mess.
I am beyond grateful to no longer be in a place of utter hopelessness, as I once was. But it is only from having been in that place before and successfully getting out of it that allows me to know that I can get out of this place. It is not permanent. It is not who I am. It's how I am and I can change that. I have that knowledge and it gives me hope. I know that it won't be quick or easy. But, I know that it is possible.
This blog is just one way I am working to get myself back out of the endless chasm of debilitating severe depression. There is no magic pill to make it go away. One cannot just wish or will away depression. But, I am not powerless or helpless and certainly not hopeless. Some may say I "suffer from depression." But, I am not a victim of this disorder. I have it, but it doesn't have me. I have depression, but I am so much more than just a depressed mess. Though it tries to overwhelm me, drown me, completely obliterate me and has been very successful over the past year, I will continue to fight it with all my might and I will be victorious.
I greatly look forward to helping clear my head, allowing myself to become more positive and productive and move further and further away from the clutches of depression. What can I say, I have a lot to say. I think a lot. Hopefully, I can transfer that into writing a lot. When I write, I write a lot. As coherently as possible. Bear with me. Learn with me. Watch me grow. Here I go!
"With God, all things are possible" Matthew 19:26
"I can do all things through Christ, who strengthens me" Philippians 4:13
So, I guess by that definition, I do have hope. I guess it is kinda impossible to not have hope. At least, how I see it; for without hope, you're hopeless. If you think anything and everything is hopeless, and impossible to achieve, then why would you ever bother trying anything? Sadly, I have felt utterly hopeless in the past.
Several years ago, I experienced a severe depression that left me feeling virtually no concern for my own well-being and likewise barely any concern for how my actions hurt my loved ones. I was beyond caring. I could see myself spiraling downward, out of control, with no idea how to get out of it. I fell so far down, I got caught in the vortex and nothing I did could pull me out. I was so far down in a hole of hopelessness, I no longer cared about myself.
But, the love I had for my family was my one saving grace.
I was remarkably fortunate not to have caused any irreparable damage to myself or my family. Yet, even that is debatable.
Remember when I said I had lots of thoughts swirling? Yeah, this is kind of what I mean. I start on one topic, then tangent after tangent later, I end up talking about anything and everything. Okay, so not quite everything. But, my spouse does often complain that I can be often unbearable to listen to as I go on and on rambling ad nauseum before I ever get to my point. And, oh yeah, apparently, I never give a thesis statement either to clarify the point I'm trying to make. I guess that's because so often I'm still figuring out what exactly the point is that I'm trying to make. I think I know and then I get started talking (or writing) and in effect I end up actively processing my thoughts and emotions, as opposed to letting them just swirl around and around up in my head. Thinking about thinking. Metacognition. I do a lot of that. For me, I need to do more than just think. I need to express those thoughts, get them out, process them, connect the dots.
Case in point, I made a realization the other day that was absolutely phenomenal to me. All my life, I never knew why my father decided that at the age of 8, though my parents had divorced when I was almost 3, he wanted me to start visiting him regularly. When school was out, Christmas, Thanksgiving, summer vacation, I was at my dad's. But, to me, as a child, it was absolutely out of the blue. I didn't understand why one summer I got dropped off at my dad's house to spend the summer. I remember at that point feeling like, who was this guy? Oh. My... dad. Um... okay. And now I spend the next 3 months with him?
Clearly, prior to this time, I hadn't seen my dad regularly "enough," if at all, to have him make much of an impression on me. I remember my father dropping me off at my mother's house once when I was about 3 or 4. But, no other visits in between those two. And, of course, I never asked why I did or didn't see my father. I was just a little kid. I just lived my life as it came to me. Just living life on life's terms. Not knowing any different. That's just how it was. I don't know why my dad didn't see me for those years right after my parents divorced. But, over two decades later, I've just made a remarkable realization as to why he started seeing me again. It seems so tremendously obvious now. But, I never figured it out before.
When I was at the end of my 2nd grade year, my mother moved from our apartment that was just a few miles from my father's house. We moved about three and a half hours away. I never made the connection before that visiting my father's house over the summer coincided with my mother moving me a significant distance away from my father. He was trying to keep me, or not lose me, so to speak. When I was nearby, I didn't matter as much. But, when it seemed he was losing me, then I became important. At least, that's how it now seems to me. Perhaps he did see me occasionally in those early years. But, I don't remember it. This is one of those things I want to ask my mother, or if I'm feeling extremely brave, I could ask my father. To say the least, my relationships with my parents are very complicated, distant and tenuous.
I am amazed that it has taken me this long to make this realization. How could I have not seen it before? It was always a mystery to me. But now it makes total sense. I wasn't even trying to figure this out. It was just the simple act of recounting the facts of my childhood when it hit me. I know the power of letting out my thoughts and feelings instead of just keeping them trapped in my head where they spin around and around in my head and feel like they're tangled into a big incoherent, incomprehensible, mind-numbing mess.
I am beyond grateful to no longer be in a place of utter hopelessness, as I once was. But it is only from having been in that place before and successfully getting out of it that allows me to know that I can get out of this place. It is not permanent. It is not who I am. It's how I am and I can change that. I have that knowledge and it gives me hope. I know that it won't be quick or easy. But, I know that it is possible.
This blog is just one way I am working to get myself back out of the endless chasm of debilitating severe depression. There is no magic pill to make it go away. One cannot just wish or will away depression. But, I am not powerless or helpless and certainly not hopeless. Some may say I "suffer from depression." But, I am not a victim of this disorder. I have it, but it doesn't have me. I have depression, but I am so much more than just a depressed mess. Though it tries to overwhelm me, drown me, completely obliterate me and has been very successful over the past year, I will continue to fight it with all my might and I will be victorious.
I greatly look forward to helping clear my head, allowing myself to become more positive and productive and move further and further away from the clutches of depression. What can I say, I have a lot to say. I think a lot. Hopefully, I can transfer that into writing a lot. When I write, I write a lot. As coherently as possible. Bear with me. Learn with me. Watch me grow. Here I go!
"With God, all things are possible" Matthew 19:26
"I can do all things through Christ, who strengthens me" Philippians 4:13
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