It's hard to figure out how to start up again after a semi-long blog hiatus. Part of me wants to give a thorough life update, ambling verbally through the past 30 days, hitting the highlights and lowlights and everything in between. Part of me wants to ignore the fact that everything has changed since a month ago and just comment nonchalantly on some small barely-blogworthy thing.
I guess I'll look for a middle ground.
So today is the one-month anniversary of the latest Big Huge Awful Thing In My Life, which consists of having moved here to this new place and basically breaking contact with most of what my life consisted of before that. Needless to say, there is a lot of emotion connected to this for me. I was visiting with a friend in Chicago not long ago, and her roommate said "Wow, Jess, every time I see you you're experiencing some kind of major life upheaval." I really don't want to be a drama queen, and I don't want this blog to become a big pity party. On the other hand, I haven't ever been less than honest here, and I am still wandering around in this deep valley where things are hard and scary and overwhelming.
And the thing is, I don't know what else to do. I'm being scrupulously healthy - I see a counselor; I take medication; I take vitamins and supplements; I walk an hour a day, every day, whether I feel like it or not; I make healthy choices; I go to bed early; I eat right; I removed myself from a situation that felt like it was killing me; I make an effort to get to know the new people in my life; I accept every social invitation that comes my way (if I'm in town); I go out of my way to see the friends I have left. But it's not working. I am still spending at least 50% of my energy just warding off despair. I'm ok for periods of time, and things start to look up, and then out of nowhere I'm blindsided with waves of sadness and anger and meaninglessness so large I don't have the ability to cope with it and I have no choice but to let it sweep over me and pull me under or to wall myself off, neither of which feels remotely healthy.
I can't shake the feeling that no matter how many phone calls I make or e-mails I write, I'm in this alone and always will be. That I can't count on anyone, because who knows when they will just stop being there for me for no discernible reason. That whatever personality deficit of mine caused or exacerbated this latest stupid social tragedy, it will still be there, latent, just waiting for me to trust someone again. That being vulnerable equals taking undue risk.
I keep putting one foot in front of the other, waiting for happiness to come back. But what if this is all there is for me? What if I only get to live half a life forever? What if I can always count on one hand the number of people who think about me when I'm not there?
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
sad
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
4 comments:
Knowing that what I write won't even begin to scratch the surface - I get the all-alone-in-this-world feeling. The "would I matter if I didn't produce" and "people keep coming and going - and never sticking" fear.
It certainly sounds like you are DOING (I tired italics...couldn't figure it out - so it's capitalized) DOING everything to strive for healthiness. For me it's hard not to feel like I just haven't done enough or found the right combination.
And damn - I hate risks.
I have no advice. Just commiserating - thoughts as I read your blog. And, letting you know I'm out here and thinking of you.
Hey there,
I am feeling proud of myself for successfully negotiating the path to your new Google-powered virtual doorstep. Okay if I hang out here for a few minutes to catch my breath? :-)
Jess, I don't want to say something banal or incredibly unhelpful. I'd love the opposite, in fact (I guess that would be saying something profound and incredibly helpful) but I have a feeling that if there were magic words that someone could say to you or over you, you would a) know what they were and b) have asked someone to say them, already! (Great. Now I am imagining you curled up on a plate on the altar next to the wine chalices while Mark Bangert says the words of Institution and calls down the Holy Spirit on your head.)
I think you are doing everything you can. I'm sorry that you are feeling alone. On the one hand, I think you're wrong -- you have touched so many lives in different parts of the globe that I imagine you'd be quite surprised to discover how many of us think about you when you're not around, and wish you well, and miss you, and not just some Swiss-cheese version of you with some personality traits removed, but all of you.
On the other hand, though, you're probably right. I am sure that there are parts of what you're going through that we, the Jess Fan Club, just can't understand or imagine, because we're not inside you (don't start thinking dirty, now!) and because we just can't jump in and share your experience... we can only ever stand on the outside, even if we're standing as close to you as we can.
Which is part of what makes depression such an annoying, gnarly beast, I would imagine.
I hope that it gives you some comfort to think that there are people who have also found themselves alone, walking through valleys of shadows of deaths where no one could join them. Jesus, for one. My theology about Holy Week is not so much the God-sent-Jesus-to-die-and-it's-your-fault theory, but much more the God-experienced-the-most-frightening-and-painful-parts-of-human-existence-and-didn't-take-the-escape-route theory... and so, when none of us can walk with you, God still is, because God has been there, in human flesh and bone.
I'm going to stop preaching at you now. Yack! Theology! Just what you probably weren't asking for. But I do believe God is with you in a way we can't be, and I hope to heck God finds a way to let you feel it when you most need to. And I love you, dear friend.
Meckhead
Jess,
my thoughts and prayers are with you. It is true also that this is something that you have to get through on your own. As much as any or all of us want to be there for you, like someone else said you are the one that's in this right now. As much it may just sound like a cliche or maybe even an empty promise, I really can't imagine giving up on our friendship. So, I do want to be there for you (as much as I realistically can be from Chicago). Thanks for posting again. Its good to hear from you and call me anytime.
Since I currently have no profound thoughts (for you or the sermon I need to have done tonight) , I'm just going to send a hug for now.
Post a Comment