Depression

Typing up from a month ago, I came to this:

I woke up feeling a little bleak. just a little.  It’s as though I’m asking “What am I doing here?”  “What is my life about?”  And the answer is a complete blank.  But there are answers, they just aren’t immediate.  I’m here at Kendal so I can have enough support so that I can live a life that’s more than just a struggle to get through the day.  My life is about the practice of being in the present, the practice of looking for truth.  It’s also about creating sacred space, creating space for particular celebrations, teaching the celebration of diversity and enacting it, doing my best to awaken people to the depth and magic and beauty of the amazing universe we live in.  And also doing my best to explain and describe the pain people live with, domestic violence, PTSD, so that they can develop compassion for others.  Another part of what my life is about is to learn to appreciate my body and its wisdom, and to take care of it properly.

I was glad to see that I phrased it in terms of what I really do, not in terms of what is visible to other people.  Teaching about child abuse is something I’ve done since Journey Into Courage.  “Creating sacred space” is not something I do openly, and not something I’ve been able to claim for myself, so it was encouraging to find it appearing on the page.

I’ve been angry with myself for not adjusting to life here:  I should have got it done faster, what’s the matter with me that I’m having trouble with a lot of details, I came here for a better life and I’m not finding it, maybe I can’t do it…

Wrote this on Friday after my phone session with Erica

The conversation with Erica helped me see that the reason I’m having such a hard time adjusting to Kendal, getting myself to where I feel settled, is not because there’s something wrong with me that I can’t do it faster.  I really envy Pat that she seems to be comfortable already.  I know they moved sometime last summer.  What’s making it far more difficult for me to even keep going on the practical things, is that having the support of a group and meals is making it possible for me to get in touch with very deep, very early conditioning.  The work I am doing, unconsciously, in processing this very deep material, is making it very hard for me to do more than the simplest things on the practical surface.  But I’m not able to give myself credit for the inner work I’m doing because it’s below the level of consciousness.  There’s the exhaustion, which I find so hard to validate, because I don’t experience myself as working hard on something.  But a big chunk of my consciousness is engaged in it.

Today I even feel depressed, for the first time in a long time.  I’m discouraged and exhausted.  Carolyn was reading from the beginning of a book that she thinks is very well written.  It’s called “Nutshell.”  The story is told by a fetus, and it is trapped, helpless, and knows that there’s trouble between its parents.  It’s beautifully written, but that just makes it more immediate.  I can see that I was triggered by it.  Then I called Eleanor to ask how she is doing, and she had a long saga about what B is doing wrong, not taking care of the house.  I could feel my heart go into “shocked heart” where it feels frozen and electrified at the same time.  It felt awful, and it was after I hung up the phone that I really started to feel depressed.  I could tell how my energy was completely gone for any of the practical things I have to get done.  I remember the last time this happened, Eleanor was over-reacting, and what B had done was not as bad or as impossible to fix as she had made it sound.  So I’ve managed to pull out of the triggered fear, but I still feel pretty helpless.

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