The Places In Between
It's not so much that we're afraid of change or so in love with the old ways, but it's that place in between that we fear . . . . It's like being between trapezes. It's Linus when his blanket is in the dryer. There's nothing to hold on to.
-Marilyn Ferguson
I Want To Be…
...That girl last year who was so happy to be alive. I used to be that happy person at a time that seems so far away from now. I used to wake up every morning at dawn and wonder why I was so lucky to have another day to live. I was on top of the world for so many reasons last year and for the first time this week, I want to be back there again.
My depression hit a scary new low last week and I didn’t like it one bit. I didn’t tell anyone how suicidal I felt and what I was thinking. I didn’t want them to worry about me any more than they already were. I was just so tired of everything. I felt like such a failure as my life was just littered with bad choices and horrible luck.
After contemplating and seriously considering a plan to kill myself this year, I took the night off and thought about what it was that I wanted to be happy again because thinking about death every single day for a week straight was exhausting. I thought about the goals that I had developed over the last few years, the ones I had accomplished and the ones that I had yet to reach…
-End of April, 2006
I’m struggling to figure out why I’m so depressed. But more importantly, I’m trying to figure out how to crawl out of my deep dark hole of depression. I’ve been working on it for months (if you don’t count all the other times I’ve been depressed over the last 20 years). Last year, I was struggling with motivation, concentration and procrastination issues. I had a hard time sitting still and concentrating on anything. I couldn’t watch more than 20 minutes of a movie, read more than a page or two of a book or do anything that required a high amount of mental capacity- like study for school. I sought help at the end of the year and started seeing a counselor in January. She helped me work through some issues. I found some balance with my thoughts by using CBT (Cognitive Behavior Therapy), I found evidence against my belief that people would severely judge me if I asked for help, and I figured out that keeping my home incredibly messy was a way to distance myself from having to come in contact with people. But I still feel exceedingly depressed. I’m sure that some of that has to do with my finances (in shambles), my education (stalled and in shambles), my continuing weight loss efforts (also seemingly in shambles)… but it doesn’t explain everything.
Here’s where I’m having a hard time with this depression thing: I look back on my life and when I start to break down everything, bit by bit, I recognize that I’m in such a far better place then ever before! Below is a list of changes I’ve gone through in 5 years time:
1. I used to live in Wisconsin. I moved to a brand new place to start over without knowing another soul in Oregon. I created a brand new life out of nothing. I attend a university that I never thought I could get into. I live in a nice apartment with a washer & dryer, and a view of a quiet park instead of a busy street like many of the apartments in Madison.
2. I used to live in filth (I know exactly what grows on a shower curtain when you don’t clean it for 6 months. I could have cataloged the new species created on my shower curtain by size, weight, color, and off-handed comments about local politics that they would make as I bathed in the morning. I’m totally serious). For the last two months, my home has been the cleanest ever and on a more regular basis. I’m not perfect (no one would want to venture behind my stove or fridge and some of the closets need to stay closed for fear of a deadly yarn avalanche), but I’m making some good habits finally stick. It’s funny because I actually realized that my tendency towards a dirty lifestyle was actually my way of distancing myself from the rest of the world. And where might I learn such an insight, you may ask? From my therapist? Nope. From a glossy magazine all about clutter and organization? Uh-uh. I learned it from VH1’s Can’t Get a Date. Go figure. There was an episode with a really attractive man in dreads who was smart and cute and capable but his apartment could qualify for federal disaster aid. He lived like a filthy hermit. And the show’s counselors advised him that by keeping his apartment that messy, he was foiling his chances at successful and intimate connections with other people. He didn’t want to bring anyone home to that mess! He kept people at bay through his mounds of dirty laundry, several weeks’ old coffee grinds and sticky dishes piled several inches high. I had that unmistakable a-ha moment right then and there. Suddenly, I’m finding motivation for keeping my spaces more tidy more often. And I’ve felt better about having people come into my personal and private spaces.
3. 5 years ago, my dating repertoire consisted of a heartsick crush in high school, a short-lived liaison with a woman who was committed to a psych ward just weeks after we started dating, a long term relationship a young man that loved me very much but who I treated like dirt, and a second long term relationship with man who had just as many problems as I did and who I fought with constantly. In the last four years, I have had another long term relationship with a wonderful man who is and will always be my best friend, a too short, incredibly passionate, and lovesick infatuation with another man who has also become my best friend, and a brand new relationship with a man so good looking and self-assured that I have no choice but to question the self hatred I possess for my body, mind and soul because the evidence suggests that he wouldn’t waste his time with me if there wasn’t something good and beautiful to be around (groan- I really want to erase that sentence for fear that I’m not being modest enough. I’ll leave it in with the hopes that I am proud to admit it some day soon). It’s been an interesting four years on the dating scene. I thought for sure that I would have been married by now. Perhaps even have a child to tend to. Maybe that’s part of the depression but I’m wise enough to recognize that it’s far better not to have stresses like that in my life as I deal with clinical depression.
4. 5 years ago I weighed somewhere between 250-275 pounds. I’ve lost 70 pounds in two years. Today I’m not going to focus on the numbers. I’m going focus on the way that I’ve changed as the numbers changed. I finally am able to look in the mirror everyday (oh dear, do I admit that I’ve come obsessed with mirrors? It’s not in the way you may think, either. I like to look in a mirror and smile. Groan. There’s something else I don’t like admitting about myself. I. Like. My. Smile. Boy that sure is hard to type. And I don’t know why. Why is it so difficult to admit something good? I like my smile. Oh fuck that… I really like my smile. I think I have the ability to win someone over with my smile when I really need to. I think it’s adorable and every chance I get, I smile back at the girl in the mirror because I know she’s me….. I need to go put my head between my knees now and breathe deeply until this fearful drop in my stomach goes away). I now try as much as possible to dress a certain way (I got my red dress finally and it is the color of every angry, passionate, bloody, sensuous, erotic emotion I feel when I slip it on). Gone is the oversized coat I wore through much of high school. Mostly gone are the black workout clothes I wore when I thought nothing else looked nearly as slimming. Gone are the oversized jeans with the flared legs that I always assumed looked good on me. Today I own a half a dozen skirts, 2 dresses and one halter top (and yes, I think they all are adorable on me). For the first time ever, I own heels. I’m working on infusing color into my wardrobe, including the fat girl’s dreaded color enemy- white! I refuse to buy baggy clothes (I’m not gonna hide behind yards of fabric anymore!). I shop in the maternity section for size large shirts because the designers give just enough in the stomach but they don’t over do it and the sleeves remain at a normal proportion. The maternity sections of many stores tend not to treat woman as if they’ve suddenly become unsexy just because they have a belly and widening hips. I find some very flattering things from time to time. Whether it’s $5 or $50, I don’t buy anything
anymore unless it completely flatters my emerging hourglass shape.
5. Before I left Wisconsin, I had very few hobbies that stimulated me unless you count TV watching and sleeping (and I do not). Out here, I’ve tried geocaching, blogging, book making, violin lessons, hiking, jogging, knitting, and photography. I’ve had a busy couple of years! I hope to add dancing lessons, sewing, volunteering and canoeing in the next year or so.
6. I used to be a very angry person. I learned early in life how to relate to other people through a passionate manner. I am stubborn and I have a hard time saying sorry. I will admit I’ve gotten in physical fights with a few close friends and family. When I moved to Oregon and met a man with a very gentle soul, I had to learn how to forgive and forget sooner than I was used to because… it seemed like the right thing to do. There was no longer a reason to stay so damn mad at him. And it feels good to let go of so much anger. I’m lucky to be changing this habit now versus 20 years down the line.
So things should be looking up for me. I should be excited about my present situation. I’ve come a long way in a few years. I should be a helluva lot happier, right? I’m not and that’s the thought that keeps nagging me. I’ve been searching for reasons for months.
-Marilyn Ferguson
I Want To Be…
...That girl last year who was so happy to be alive. I used to be that happy person at a time that seems so far away from now. I used to wake up every morning at dawn and wonder why I was so lucky to have another day to live. I was on top of the world for so many reasons last year and for the first time this week, I want to be back there again.
My depression hit a scary new low last week and I didn’t like it one bit. I didn’t tell anyone how suicidal I felt and what I was thinking. I didn’t want them to worry about me any more than they already were. I was just so tired of everything. I felt like such a failure as my life was just littered with bad choices and horrible luck.
After contemplating and seriously considering a plan to kill myself this year, I took the night off and thought about what it was that I wanted to be happy again because thinking about death every single day for a week straight was exhausting. I thought about the goals that I had developed over the last few years, the ones I had accomplished and the ones that I had yet to reach…
-End of April, 2006
I’m struggling to figure out why I’m so depressed. But more importantly, I’m trying to figure out how to crawl out of my deep dark hole of depression. I’ve been working on it for months (if you don’t count all the other times I’ve been depressed over the last 20 years). Last year, I was struggling with motivation, concentration and procrastination issues. I had a hard time sitting still and concentrating on anything. I couldn’t watch more than 20 minutes of a movie, read more than a page or two of a book or do anything that required a high amount of mental capacity- like study for school. I sought help at the end of the year and started seeing a counselor in January. She helped me work through some issues. I found some balance with my thoughts by using CBT (Cognitive Behavior Therapy), I found evidence against my belief that people would severely judge me if I asked for help, and I figured out that keeping my home incredibly messy was a way to distance myself from having to come in contact with people. But I still feel exceedingly depressed. I’m sure that some of that has to do with my finances (in shambles), my education (stalled and in shambles), my continuing weight loss efforts (also seemingly in shambles)… but it doesn’t explain everything.
Here’s where I’m having a hard time with this depression thing: I look back on my life and when I start to break down everything, bit by bit, I recognize that I’m in such a far better place then ever before! Below is a list of changes I’ve gone through in 5 years time:
1. I used to live in Wisconsin. I moved to a brand new place to start over without knowing another soul in Oregon. I created a brand new life out of nothing. I attend a university that I never thought I could get into. I live in a nice apartment with a washer & dryer, and a view of a quiet park instead of a busy street like many of the apartments in Madison.
2. I used to live in filth (I know exactly what grows on a shower curtain when you don’t clean it for 6 months. I could have cataloged the new species created on my shower curtain by size, weight, color, and off-handed comments about local politics that they would make as I bathed in the morning. I’m totally serious). For the last two months, my home has been the cleanest ever and on a more regular basis. I’m not perfect (no one would want to venture behind my stove or fridge and some of the closets need to stay closed for fear of a deadly yarn avalanche), but I’m making some good habits finally stick. It’s funny because I actually realized that my tendency towards a dirty lifestyle was actually my way of distancing myself from the rest of the world. And where might I learn such an insight, you may ask? From my therapist? Nope. From a glossy magazine all about clutter and organization? Uh-uh. I learned it from VH1’s Can’t Get a Date. Go figure. There was an episode with a really attractive man in dreads who was smart and cute and capable but his apartment could qualify for federal disaster aid. He lived like a filthy hermit. And the show’s counselors advised him that by keeping his apartment that messy, he was foiling his chances at successful and intimate connections with other people. He didn’t want to bring anyone home to that mess! He kept people at bay through his mounds of dirty laundry, several weeks’ old coffee grinds and sticky dishes piled several inches high. I had that unmistakable a-ha moment right then and there. Suddenly, I’m finding motivation for keeping my spaces more tidy more often. And I’ve felt better about having people come into my personal and private spaces.
3. 5 years ago, my dating repertoire consisted of a heartsick crush in high school, a short-lived liaison with a woman who was committed to a psych ward just weeks after we started dating, a long term relationship a young man that loved me very much but who I treated like dirt, and a second long term relationship with man who had just as many problems as I did and who I fought with constantly. In the last four years, I have had another long term relationship with a wonderful man who is and will always be my best friend, a too short, incredibly passionate, and lovesick infatuation with another man who has also become my best friend, and a brand new relationship with a man so good looking and self-assured that I have no choice but to question the self hatred I possess for my body, mind and soul because the evidence suggests that he wouldn’t waste his time with me if there wasn’t something good and beautiful to be around (groan- I really want to erase that sentence for fear that I’m not being modest enough. I’ll leave it in with the hopes that I am proud to admit it some day soon). It’s been an interesting four years on the dating scene. I thought for sure that I would have been married by now. Perhaps even have a child to tend to. Maybe that’s part of the depression but I’m wise enough to recognize that it’s far better not to have stresses like that in my life as I deal with clinical depression.
4. 5 years ago I weighed somewhere between 250-275 pounds. I’ve lost 70 pounds in two years. Today I’m not going to focus on the numbers. I’m going focus on the way that I’ve changed as the numbers changed. I finally am able to look in the mirror everyday (oh dear, do I admit that I’ve come obsessed with mirrors? It’s not in the way you may think, either. I like to look in a mirror and smile. Groan. There’s something else I don’t like admitting about myself. I. Like. My. Smile. Boy that sure is hard to type. And I don’t know why. Why is it so difficult to admit something good? I like my smile. Oh fuck that… I really like my smile. I think I have the ability to win someone over with my smile when I really need to. I think it’s adorable and every chance I get, I smile back at the girl in the mirror because I know she’s me….. I need to go put my head between my knees now and breathe deeply until this fearful drop in my stomach goes away). I now try as much as possible to dress a certain way (I got my red dress finally and it is the color of every angry, passionate, bloody, sensuous, erotic emotion I feel when I slip it on). Gone is the oversized coat I wore through much of high school. Mostly gone are the black workout clothes I wore when I thought nothing else looked nearly as slimming. Gone are the oversized jeans with the flared legs that I always assumed looked good on me. Today I own a half a dozen skirts, 2 dresses and one halter top (and yes, I think they all are adorable on me). For the first time ever, I own heels. I’m working on infusing color into my wardrobe, including the fat girl’s dreaded color enemy- white! I refuse to buy baggy clothes (I’m not gonna hide behind yards of fabric anymore!). I shop in the maternity section for size large shirts because the designers give just enough in the stomach but they don’t over do it and the sleeves remain at a normal proportion. The maternity sections of many stores tend not to treat woman as if they’ve suddenly become unsexy just because they have a belly and widening hips. I find some very flattering things from time to time. Whether it’s $5 or $50, I don’t buy anything
anymore unless it completely flatters my emerging hourglass shape.5. Before I left Wisconsin, I had very few hobbies that stimulated me unless you count TV watching and sleeping (and I do not). Out here, I’ve tried geocaching, blogging, book making, violin lessons, hiking, jogging, knitting, and photography. I’ve had a busy couple of years! I hope to add dancing lessons, sewing, volunteering and canoeing in the next year or so.
6. I used to be a very angry person. I learned early in life how to relate to other people through a passionate manner. I am stubborn and I have a hard time saying sorry. I will admit I’ve gotten in physical fights with a few close friends and family. When I moved to Oregon and met a man with a very gentle soul, I had to learn how to forgive and forget sooner than I was used to because… it seemed like the right thing to do. There was no longer a reason to stay so damn mad at him. And it feels good to let go of so much anger. I’m lucky to be changing this habit now versus 20 years down the line.
So things should be looking up for me. I should be excited about my present situation. I’ve come a long way in a few years. I should be a helluva lot happier, right? I’m not and that’s the thought that keeps nagging me. I’ve been searching for reasons for months.
Am I afraid of success?
Am I just plain lazy?
Am I holding myself back so I don’t have to experience any failure or hurt down the line?
Am I afraid of change?
Do I have ADD or Bi-Polar disorder?
John Lennon is quoted as saying “Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans.” When I look over my accomplishments of the last five years, I can’t help but notice that I’ve done a great many things to better my situation even as I continuemaking ever changing plans because I feel like I’m at a standstill. I feel like I'm at one of the places in between. I'm far from the destructive person I used to be, but I'm far from the confident married woman with an architect's license, a child to protect and teach and nurture, and a safe, permanent home that I and my family call our own. I'm stuck somewhere in between and it's driving me nuts. I'm sick of the paint-by-number's future that sits before me incomplete! I want fill in the blank spaces with permanent inks so I know that I'll be okay in some way.
My wish for the immediate future is that I am able to improve on the things that keep me from living my life gracefully. I'd like to get through these uncertain times with less stress and fewer complications. There is a way to do it- I'm sure of it. I'm just unsure as to where to begin. If I could fly through the air with the greatest of ease and do it without missing a beat, I think I could stop worrying so much about letting go of the last trapeze and just focus on grabbing the one hurdling towards me.
posted by punkindunkin at 6:40 PM
1 Comments:
You know I love ya and care about you Punkin.
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