On mental health and quiet

It's not raining (yet), and it's warm. The chirring of crickets outside the open window is soothing, even though I know in my heart that they are singing a song of endings, or changes, really. Cars and trucks hum by, but they do not stay, so their hush and rush is a part of this melodic line, too. 

This is quiet-- not silence, but calm. I crave moments, even hours, of this daily, but it seems that this summer, I've had to wait for stretches of quiet. There are good reasons -- family and conferences and a whole lot of must-do distractions-- but this type of peaceful start to the day is balm to my too-often unquiet inner self. 

During my frantic couple of years --the last few of my father's life and all the chaos of that-- I tried both antidepressants and anti-anxiety meds--not for me. Nope. They made me really feel ill, and the feeling of muffled and disoriented disconnectedness was scary. I chose, instead, to do the hard work without meds. This is not a route everyone should take, because for others, appropriate meds are a godsend. But my tolerance for medication is notoriously low --I can't even take a full dose of Benadryl, without having really hard side effects. So, I went with ten minute mindfulness meditation videos from Calm on youtube. Some days, I sat with two of them in a row. I leaned in on biofeedback, intentional breathing, prayer, and, sometimes, just wigging out and scream-crying in the shower. Not my best days, weeks, months, or years.

This past spring, I had another bout with serious depression, triggered by work and potential health issues. At least this time, I had some strategies to approach the difficulties with. I made it relatively unscathed, thank goodness. But I haven't had this kind of quiet all to myself in a long time-- it's been there, I just have not been able to access it, to set up the kind of necessary parameters and boundaries for me to receive the blessings I need. Today, I can. I'm glad.

I'm glad to have the coping strategies and lessons I learned through all of that turbulent time. I hope I don't have to use them often-- I feel physically and emotionally depleted, still, from so much stress and anxiety. When people say that those kinds of situations only make you stronger, I think they are either delusional or speaking from a position of not-knowing. In fact, we are all a little guilty of that, in a well-intentioned way. What I think we are trying to say to someone who has been or is struggling is that we believe in their ability to pull through. Perhaps that is what we really need to say: I am here for you, I will sit with you as you work through your chaos, I will help when and if you want me to. 

Sometimes, we don't even know what we need from others when we are in the throes of so much disquiet. To have someone to sit with, just sit and be beside, is a blessing. They can bring the quiet that we can't seem to find ourselves. And we can't be afraid to ask for someone to sit with us; it isn't brave, it's self-isolating. 

So right now, as the cars stream by on their way to wherever they are going and the crickets continue their song, I am sitting with my coffee, the welcome quiet, and you.

Have a good day,

C