Tag Archives: spirit

In Spite of

In spite of a hellish week of over work. Tasks I abhor. Unreasonable requests. I feel fine. I have been feeling fine for 4 weeks. Exactly 4 weeks. After …somewhere between 10 and 40 years of moderate to sever depression and anxiety.

I keep thinking of that therapy model I read somewhere, that once you chip away at enough of the crap trees in the crap forrest, the rest just start falling.

Don’t honestly know if it’s a temporary reprieve or a new chapter that doesn’t suck as much, may even holds good things. Just know the trees are falling of their own accord now. OK, sometimes I have to give them a little nudge. But they’re falling.



trimming the roses & Zen

I don’t ask for help until long after I should have. I have been asking for help this week. Hormones, diet or circumstances, something has left me with no resilience, no stasis. Still days go by.


7:30 am – Trimming the roses is an hour of peace I never knew before I had a rose bush.

9 am – The company of a good friend is comforting. And there were many years I didn’t have that, so I am still surprised daily that I do.


12:30 pm – The threat of tomorrow, and the way my mind will move through work tomorrow, threatens to take away any peace in the rest of today, and send me in loops of despair.

12:37 pm – I decide that I need to stop caring. About anything. Take a step back. Somehow it helped. Letting go of attachment to anything and everything made it seem like life could go on all around me, and roll of my back, speed past me, swirl in turbulent eddies while I sat on a rock observing. Unaffected.

I remember the Zen outlook that got me through adolescence and early adulthood until I eventually all my repressed emotions locked me in a moment in time in the 7th ring of hell. Then therapy and a hundred other ways to change the storage and organization of this mind and heart, and gave me a fear of detachment and of Zen.

But today little Zen got me through the afternoon quietly. Tomorrow is tomorrow. I can process things then.


of ants and anxiety


I was decimating an ant swarm around my kitchen door (which already seemed to be dying) when one ant walked up on my foot and pointedly bit me. It felt like on tiny voice of rage and defiance, defending his tribe, expressing himself. I killed him, told him I was sorry, and realized I can relate. That’s what I feel like when I’m battling depression and anxiety. The size and futility ratio feel about the same.

That said I’ve been feeling good this week, and maybe I’m winning the battle, but sometimes it just seems random. Like I could have just as easily turned right into the house with the death soap bucket, but I happened to turn left into the sugar pile today.

Current state of ants and anxiety – detente.