I was having a plenty shitty day, dropped right back in a bad mental place, and then out of left field I find out my dog’s toe needs to be cut off and possibly just be put down. He’s 13, so it’s not like it’s strange or anything, but I’m just such a fucking baby sometimes it disgusts me. I’ve been just barely able to keep my thoughts off of how much everything in my life seems like it will only ever get worse and I can feel the wild spasms of mania on the edges of my mind. I absolutely dread the moment I have to slip into bed and be alone with my thoughts. Over the years, I’ve always had issues. This isn’t anywhere near the worst I’ve been. This isn’t even the first time I’ve been afraid of my own thoughts. Somehow, though, it just feels different this time. I guess I’ve just gotten more fragile. No surprises there, I guess. I’m just so tired of myself and everything else at this point.
I don’t want to compete in the suffering Olympics with you, I only say this to say that I empathize, if only in part with your suffering. We’re going to say goodbye to our dog soon. In the soon after another tragedy befell me. Then I see all the rancid shit that Trump was doing. It was the worst 30 day span of the previous decade for me. I was having panic attacks and crying every day. It felt unearned, I expected karma to make suffering like that the consequences of my own actions instead of just simple circumstance. I didn’t fuck around but I still found out.
Again, not to compare scars but to highlight that what I say may be easier said than done, but I really believe it’s the way. There was someone who had a beautiful quote I’ve digested completely and forgot about whose beautiful artistry renders the idea that “if you don’t feel suffering it’ll find you during a beautiful day at the park.” So if you spend your day avoiding it, when you lay down to rest the sadness washes over you like a haze demanding your undivided attention. I would go to BJJ where there was no room for feeling my life situation and the millisecond I stepped onto the sidewalk outside my sadness came back. That’s manageable and reasonable. It was perhaps good that I was capable of stepping out of it if only for an hour instead of an unbroken streak.
But to the point (I actually believe this) the solution may be to take some time to sit with the pain and really feel it. To truly just sit down to witness the physical component of your suffering. Where is it? In your chest? Does it make your breath shallow? What does it feel like when tears well up? Feel the panic take hold. Can you still breathe? It’s fine to not have the answers to your questions right now; some things are uncertain and others are certainly not in your favor. When your thoughts distract you, decide to terminate the thought compassionately to return to feeling it. But if you spend some time really being witness to the haze, maybe it will let up when it’s time to rest.