Oh, today was hard. Nothing I could pin-point, which is how it sneaks up on me. I always hit my lowest moods when everything seems just fine. When things are stressful or uncertain, and people need me, and there are matters pressing for my attention, I can pull up, most of the time. BUT, when I'm hormonal and it's snowing in late April, and everything else is just fine in my life, that's a recipe for a serious funk for me.
I start to question everything. I want to do something drastic, pack everyone up and drive for days until I hit the ocean and dive in, join the circus, go get a degree in environmental engineering, or something, anything. I feel unworthy, insignificant in the face of the world's sorrows. I can't find the gratitude for my amazing, imperfect, joyful existence; I only see that I don't deserve to have privileges that others do not have.
I'm writing about this, not because I think I'm unique in my little existential crisis, but because I think I am not. I see so much beauty in others, in my family, my community, the world at large, and I think that it is all outside of me. I get mired in those past tapes of ugly, shameful moments where I said or did things that were not in line with my values. However insignificant they may be, they feel huge. Today, I just chose to sit with all of this discomfort, to ask for space from my family when necessary so my grump didn't spill over on them. When these difficult emotional states hit us hard, I think the human tendency is to fight it or fix it or numb it with busyness (or other means). I find that when I give myself permission to just feel it, to go deep into it until I come out the other side, the struggle is softened.
I make a conscious effort in my daily life to approach others with respect and openness, to not judge when others stumble, and then I see that I need to extend those same kindnesses to myself. So, slowly I remember how to feel the gratitude for my amazing, imperfect, beautifully messy, bright existence.
While I was typing up this post, my little 3-year-old came out of bed and said, "Mama, I need you." I simply said, "I need you, too," and went in for a snuggle. Everything is so much more than just fine.