Earlier this year I marked the tenth anniversary of a pact I made with myself. Ten years ago I resolved to take all the pills. That was the gist of it at first, always to be compliant with medication, but it quickly became much more encompassing than that. I have been on a ten year quest to heal myself and make something better with myself, to get somewhere better in life.
Ten and a half years on, I am not even halfway through. In fact, the foundations are barely laid. Every day is a fight to put one foot in front of the other. (Look at you, with pants on! Great job!) These are some of the things I have learned.
1. This is not your problem. This is everyone's problem. One of my acquaintances became severely depressed after the death of his best friend. His teacher said to him, quietly, these wise words. My acquaintance repeated them to me years later. It was an a-ha moment. As recently as six years ago, I had a list in my head of people to call and "vent" to, yell with, sob at, when even the smallest little thing went wrong. One of these friends suddenly quit answering the phone when I called, ever. Being mindful of your loved ones suffering along with you is a must-have change in perspective on the road to healing. Now, when something doesn't go my way, I don't dial the phone first thing.
2. If your external environment is less than ideal, go within to change it. In a new city with few friends? Get independent. Expand your inner horizons. Take that oil painting class. Go to the coffee shop and take something with you, a sketchbook or an iPad. Write, draw, knit, or whatever there for three hours or until you have gotten something accomplished. Family not empathetic enough to suit you? Care about them a little less. No, I'm serious. That will let them off the hook of supporting you, and allow you to accept what is. That acceptance of what is will open up space for inner joy in your own life.
3. Allow yourself to regress (not by drinking or drug use, but emotionally or mentally or spiritually), or move laterally, or progress in a way you didn't see coming. I have never had the best coping skills. When something stresses me, I usually cover myself with blankets and hide for a few days. Sleeping or not sleeping. I call it my cocoon. It usually lasts about three days, then I feel ok enough to move forward with more pro-active steps. When that happens, I go back to the beginning of my journey, of only doing the have-to's. The want-to's or the really-should's can wait. The have-to's get done. Two steps forward, one step back.
4. Creating, or using one's gift, is not an option. This is the hardest lesson of all. Bad things happen to an artist who doesn't allow himself to make art. I am Exhibit A of this theory. I had a traumatizing experience with sharing my work with the world when I was very young, and that is why I thought that I didn't have to share my gift with the world, or even myself. But I was very bad wrong about this. Creativity and neurosis are linked, they are like a balance. Starve creativity, neurosis will grow. Feed creativity, neurosis will shrink. Every day I am not creating something, I am digging my hole a little deeper.
5. Accepting help, aka charity, is a positive trait. It is a sign of motherfucking integrity. There are times when someone will do something for you that you can never hope to repay them for. And that thing is not an option to refuse simply because your survival will depend on it. Be grateful and take it. Never ever forget it and be kind to yourself and all beings in the future because of it.
6. Every day is a fight, for every living thing on the planet. It is a fight each and every day, for a soccer mom in the suburbs, for a deer in the wilderness, for an ant living in a crack in your porch, for Donald Trump (I know because I heard him say it on The Apprentice), for me, for you, for your prom king and queen, for everyone. Each day you fight will make you stronger for the next day, which will be harder. So not fighting puts you in a hole.
7. You are fucking special. I know you are because I am fucking special, too. There is no one like me on the face of the planet. I am unique in a way that makes it hard for me to fit in. Not everyone appreciates other people's uniqueness, and not everyone sees it. But it's there. Appreciate it in yourself, and try to be around those who appreciate it in you. It will make you feel better, and that's part of healing.
I could go on with these, but that seems like as good a stopping point as any. I hope the next ten years will bring me as far forward as the past ten years, if not more so. I'm not hallucinating in a hospital gown, so I can definitely see some progress. But I still have more work to do, and I can see that too. I am hoping that by writing this, I can make a mark in my mind to go forward from here, as much as that moment ten and a half years ago in the hospital was a mark in my mind to begin from. Onward.
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