I feel the waves of sadness rushing in today. Thoughts or feelings? I’m not sure, they’re two sides of a coin anyway, right?
I’ve just put my beautiful little boy to bed for his afternoon nap after a morning of baby baths and housework and feelings I can’t quite get to the root of. Usually when I’m feeling this way I make myself a nice hot cup of tea, wrap myself up in a fleece blanket on the couch and watch a detective type TV show that takes my mind away from whatever is bothering me and into solving the fictional case. Solving someone else’s case, ironically. By the time the show is over I usually feel calmer but today is the amalgamation of a week of feeling this way and maybe, uncomfortable as it is, I should sit down with the sadness and process it.
I seem to go from extreme to extreme. When I was younger I expressed every thought and feeling I had to anyone who would listen, thinking that somehow getting it “out” of me would help me to feel better. I realised slowly that the thought processes generating each feeling we have don’t ever “get out” they reboot. The mind is a server and the negative thoughts that create sadness are a virus that cant be cleared by repeating the virus. Talking about it all the time just built up the thoughts, added to them and the opinions of other people added more doubt to my own quiet inner voice. It took me a really long time to understand that talking about things excessively didn’t actually help matters.
Coincidentally I faced a circumstance at the same time as this epiphany that meant I would have to spend a lot of time alone for the following two years. At first, it was awful but then I adapted the above habit of burying my fears in that hot sweet tea and hiding under a fleece blanket in a make believe world of TV mysteries, conveniently solvable within the hour. My introversion became extreme, so much so that when the two years was over it took me another full year to learn to open up again. I was so safe in my hiding place, my mind refused to come out.
The problem with both of the above coping mechanisms is that neither attempts to solve the problem. Analysing it to death without focusing on possible solutions or ignoring it completely I am nowhere nearer to removing the virus from my server. Today I decided not to turn on the TV and to sit quietly with my cuppa. This was not fun! I have become so good at shutting out my thoughts, that now I just get a feeling of dread without knowing what it is in relation to. I decided maybe the best way to figure it out was to write every flicker of a thought I had before my mind shut them down. here goes,
Thought One: All the things I haven’t done , the path’s I didn’t take.
This is a reoccurring thought for me lately. There are so many things I loved and thought I would do with my life and I am now 30 working to pay the bills and hiding in my TV. Since I was a little girl I always wanted to be a singer (cue annoying reality TV sob story music as per every contestant ever on a singing show.) It is my truth but it is not a unique wish. I pursued a musical education from the age of 5 and I am thankful that I can play instruments and I have a voice but I am not performing. I am not living the dream of pouring my soul into the lyrics of a beautiful song, and sharing it from the safety of a stage with thousands who feel the same way and come alive in the moment. I got so broken-hearted by not achieving the dream that I cut music out of my life all together. It was too painful to let my soul dream. Is it too late? Or am I thinking about this constantly because some divine purpose is pushing me to stop ignoring it for all the necessities and bills and responsibilities of an adult and just try anyway.
Thought Two: I’m looking older.
I think all women suffer from this horrible thought in their 30th year at some point. It’s when you leave the beauty of 20 something skin and body behind and start to face the abuse you’ve given your body thus far in life. Suddenly you cant get away with sleeping in your make up or eating that extra sweet treat and you seems to have less motivation / energy to workout. I have always been tunnel visioned when I make up my mind. Again to the extreme, when I was younger, if I felt my body wasn’t good enough for me I would use any means necessary to make a change. Now it’s March and I had vowed in January to eat clean and work out 4 days a week and I simply keep failing. I start and stop and do good then fall off. It is exhausting and humiliating as I feel despicable for apparently not being the kind of person who does what she says she will. I thought I was better than that? And why do I feel so much pressure to be physically perfect anyway? In a world drunk on physicality… I feel hungover.
Thought Three: This reality is infinite and I will never experience enough.
I am an explorer by nature. My soul yearns to experience everything this short life has to offer and yet I am 9-5ing. I am experiencing the beauty of love and a family that was more important to my heart than anything else. But what of all the things I will never know, of this world as a planet as a place , of my mind as a maze, of my potential in diverse situations. While I may be lost in the system and it’s monotony, the core of me just refuses to conform. A void ever present in the pit of my stomach.
This all sounds very negative and I feel the need to explain, I am not living day to day depressed or particularly unhappy. I am blessed with a comfortable life, a wonderful family and a lovely place to work. I have achieve the best possible “system life” if you will. But I want more, as hard as I try to ignore the yearnings, my soul refuses to settle, it churns up these existential questions on the meaning and the point and I need to find the answers or at least soothe myself with a quest to try.
I usually naturally round my posts off with a conclusion, a cyclic crescendo, but how apt not to find the words when ending a post based on the existential questions that make my soul sad…