Further Thoughts about “stuck in misery”

Most of this was written on Saturday, March 20 in my journal.  I’ve modified it somewhat.

I woke up at 3AM still struggling with the question of being “stuck in my misery.”  I thought things like I won’t go to the discussion next week, I’ll stop posting to the blog and see if anyone notices…  Yesterday I felt like something had broken in me.  But this morning I felt the presence of Someone, maybe my True Self.  They stood very firmly in the truth that I wasn’t going to do any of those things, that I was just going to accept that my friends didn’t get it and stop trying to explain myself to them.  Realizing that a lot of the pain is recognizing that I don’t really belong anywhere.  In some ways Kindred Spirits is the closest, they see both sides of me.  The circle dancers only see the Priestess of Neskaya, who is warm, welcoming, and creates wonderful experiences for them.  They don’t believe it when I say I’m depressed.  

I was thinking that I haven’t defeated depression.  Maybe that’s what some people mean by “stuck.”  I struggle with it and it goes away and comes back and I struggle with it again.  But actually the battle metaphor is incorrect, at least for me.  Depression is like ice.  I melt it and it goes away.  It’s often hard work to find the place that accomplishes melting, but sometimes it happens quickly.  Then what happens is what happens often in therapy, you heal some ancient wound, and feel a lot better for a little while, and then an older pain, that you are now strong enough to face, rises up to be dealt with.  They are saying now there’s evidence that unhealed wounds get passed down through the generations, so for all I know I am now working on my grandparents unhealed wounds.

My most important realization from this writing was the “Someone, maybe my True Self,” who was clearly there, and conveying the idea that it was OK to express my hurt feelings knowing that I wasn’t going to act on them.  I refer to this being as “they” because it didn’t seem to have a gender, it didn’t even speak, just conveyed a very loving supportive energy.  I strongly suspect this is what the Quakers call “that of god” in me.

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