Goodness me - it's almost a month since my last post, and probably 6 weeks since the one before that. I guess it's some kind of blogger's block, but also a seemingly inevitable consequence of 'being busy'. However, I'm not fooling myself and realise I make my own choices these days - after all, what we do and don't do is simply a result of the priorities we attach to them. So maybe I just didn't really want to write for a while? It's certainly true that I didn't need to - not in the way I did when I was finding my path out of the abyss of depression, at any rate. But could it be that I need to write now, more than ever, precisely because I am getting back to 'normal'?
After all, what is 'normal' anyway, and isn't this a state I never wanted to get back to, given how dysfunctional the state I had thought to be normal had become? All this insight, this painful journey of realisation and self-awareness, was not accomplished so that I could merely return to how I was before. I have fought off the demons and the doomsayers in my head to reconnect with the raw feelings that are truly mine, so I can hardly disown them now - it would be like being hauled out of a deadly and foaming sea-swell, only to then shoot my rescuer (and then myself) in the head.
Yes, if I am to move forward (in the longer term) from this experience, then getting 'back to normal' is not enough. It is self-deception of the most dangerous kind. And yet... and yet it is so tempting. I feel so strong, so sharp, so ready-for-anything, so... happy! And when we're happy, naturally we want to stay happy, get more 'happy', even bathe and wallow in this new-found and long-lost happiness. In short, we have stared into the jaws of death, and rejoice to be alive once more, to have rediscovered our vitality.
And this vitality is not a trick. No, it is very real, and - in itself - can do us no harm . But, as with everything, it is what we do with it - what meaning we attach to it - that will determine whether it guides us to a healthy way of living or places us back on the helter-skelter to self-destruction. And the differences are subtle, the margins narrow. Staying on the right side of the line - the depressive's frontier between being kind to himself and piling pressure on himself - is no easy task. It's like having to keep just alongside a fault-line which lies below the earth's surface - impossible to define, uneven in form, and ready to open up and swallow you without warning or pity. We find things that work - maybe yoga, gardening, walking the dog or perhaps spending quiet time alone. But how easy it is for the self-punishing brain to turn these nurturing pleasures into painful obligations with which we can all too easily beat ourselves around the head? It's a funny old game, inhabiting an unquiet mind, and one must always be vigilant. Vigilant and accepting, relaxed and aware - and all at the same time!
So I'm glad to be 'back on the force', as the great Clouseau would say. I'm truly, genuinely glad to be back in a job I enjoy, and am equally genuinely grateful for the love and support I have received from those around me - both from those I know well, and from those who cannot - nor should not - hope to fully understand. The real difference this time around (and this is my one great hope for the future) is that I have gained a true sense of responsibility at long last.
That is to say: I realise that I - and only I - am responsible for the meaning I give to events in my life. I am therefore wholly responsible for how I feel, and if I accept this responsibility, then I will also accept my true feelings and work with them rather than feeling the need to cut them off or conceal them. This should make it easier for me to carry my true self (and especially my more vulnerable, younger, inner self) with me, rather than shutting him out. No excuses any more. No casting blame. No bemoaning my lot. The simple fact is that this is my life, and I am the only one who can live it.
After all, what is 'normal' anyway, and isn't this a state I never wanted to get back to, given how dysfunctional the state I had thought to be normal had become? All this insight, this painful journey of realisation and self-awareness, was not accomplished so that I could merely return to how I was before. I have fought off the demons and the doomsayers in my head to reconnect with the raw feelings that are truly mine, so I can hardly disown them now - it would be like being hauled out of a deadly and foaming sea-swell, only to then shoot my rescuer (and then myself) in the head.
Yes, if I am to move forward (in the longer term) from this experience, then getting 'back to normal' is not enough. It is self-deception of the most dangerous kind. And yet... and yet it is so tempting. I feel so strong, so sharp, so ready-for-anything, so... happy! And when we're happy, naturally we want to stay happy, get more 'happy', even bathe and wallow in this new-found and long-lost happiness. In short, we have stared into the jaws of death, and rejoice to be alive once more, to have rediscovered our vitality.
And this vitality is not a trick. No, it is very real, and - in itself - can do us no harm . But, as with everything, it is what we do with it - what meaning we attach to it - that will determine whether it guides us to a healthy way of living or places us back on the helter-skelter to self-destruction. And the differences are subtle, the margins narrow. Staying on the right side of the line - the depressive's frontier between being kind to himself and piling pressure on himself - is no easy task. It's like having to keep just alongside a fault-line which lies below the earth's surface - impossible to define, uneven in form, and ready to open up and swallow you without warning or pity. We find things that work - maybe yoga, gardening, walking the dog or perhaps spending quiet time alone. But how easy it is for the self-punishing brain to turn these nurturing pleasures into painful obligations with which we can all too easily beat ourselves around the head? It's a funny old game, inhabiting an unquiet mind, and one must always be vigilant. Vigilant and accepting, relaxed and aware - and all at the same time!
So I'm glad to be 'back on the force', as the great Clouseau would say. I'm truly, genuinely glad to be back in a job I enjoy, and am equally genuinely grateful for the love and support I have received from those around me - both from those I know well, and from those who cannot - nor should not - hope to fully understand. The real difference this time around (and this is my one great hope for the future) is that I have gained a true sense of responsibility at long last.
That is to say: I realise that I - and only I - am responsible for the meaning I give to events in my life. I am therefore wholly responsible for how I feel, and if I accept this responsibility, then I will also accept my true feelings and work with them rather than feeling the need to cut them off or conceal them. This should make it easier for me to carry my true self (and especially my more vulnerable, younger, inner self) with me, rather than shutting him out. No excuses any more. No casting blame. No bemoaning my lot. The simple fact is that this is my life, and I am the only one who can live it.
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