Struggling

This fall was a struggle for me, mentally speaking. 2021 has been a roller coaster ride, and my mental health took a beating. Let's recap the year.

It started on a high note, with a full month spent living in my RV in Florida. It was a big deal in so many ways. First time in my life that I've ever lived alone. First time traveling in the rv alone. The longest amount of time I've ever spent away from home, and the longest I've been away from my hubby in more than 30 years. There were hard things and awesome things. I loved that trip more than I can say. Thinking about it still brings me joy.

Then my Dad got sick. I traveled back and forth between his home and mine for a couple of months, ending with his funeral service this spring. Those lousy last months of his life took their toll on me, but I'm grateful that I was able to spend those last few times with him. I miss his voice more than I can say. Half a year later, a still get a lump in my throat when I remember that I won't hear it again.

Then summer came, and the roller coaster soared back to the top of the track. My son and I took an epic road trip across the United States, from Massachusetts to California. Nine days, three national parks, one apocalyptic storm, roughly 20 musical soundtracks, hours of boredom broken up by moments of awe, a healthy dose of side splitting laughter, and some long running debates about some very unimportant topics. It was the trip of a lifetime, and I enjoyed it more than I can say.

After that came another precipitous drop in the roller coaster. For many reasons, the rv-ing didn't work out very well this fall, and I've made the difficult decision not to go back to Florida this winter. It's a temporary setback, but one that hit me hard. Combine that with some job stress and the adjustment to an empty nest, and it felt like I fell into a pit for a while there. I always knew I could climb out of the pit, but the energy required to do so was just more than I could muster for a while. It's hard to explain how impossible the simplest things seemed. Doing laundry, cooking dinner, even taking a shower were simply more than I could imagine doing at times. I was more tired than I can say.

So here we are, in early December, and I'm really hoping that the 2020 roller coaster is done with me. But if it's not, I'm in a better place to deal with it now. I owe my current mental state, which I'd describe as "not half bad", to the three m's: medication, meditation, movement.

I take medication for depression. There, I said it. I grew up believing that people who were depressed just needed to cheer up. As recently as a few years ago, I believed that depressed people were those who dwelled on the negative, rather than focusing on the positive. Then I got it, and I finally understood. Depression isn't just feeling a little blue. It's an illness that sinks its claws into your mind, and bites and kicks and scratches to keep you from evicting it. It's a vicious cat fight going on silently and invisibly in your brain. Telling someone to cheer up is just as ineffective at curing depression as it is at curing cancer.

Medicating helps. It gives me a little boost, a tiny lift, just enough for me to find the energy to help myself.

And then there's meditating, the magical skill that I've recently discovered. How have I missed this up to now? I've got a great virtual meditation coach, and he soothingly reminds me to be kind to myself. I'm learning to sit back and let a lot of baggage pass me by without picking it up. This is such an invaluable skill, I wonder why we don't teach it to kids in school before we even teach them to read. This is truly a life skill.

The final piece of my puzzle is movement. I don't mean physical movement, as in exercise, although that's helpful too. I'm talking about mental movement. It’s so easy to sit in the recliner, endlessly scrolling through content that I’m only vaguely interested in. It’s so hard to get up and do something productive. Even things that I enjoy, like crochet, seem like too much work. So I made a deal with myself. I’ll just do one thing per day. It doesn’t have to be much - in fact, the worse I feel, the smaller I make that one thing. One day, I set a goal to pick up the pair of socks off the floor that I left sitting there for a week. I know, sounds crazy, right? THAT was my goal for the day - just that. Took me a while - I sat and scrolled for a good hour after setting that goal. But the next time I got up to use the bathroom, I forced myself to grab those socks on my way back to the recliner and dropped them in the laundry basket. THERE! SUCCESS! I did a thing! I accomplished my goal!

So movement means moving off of my normal trajectory, pushing myself to get just a tiny bit out of my rut. Then, having accomplished that goal, I’m allowed to fall right back into the recliner.

Does this make sense to anyone? I’m amazed at how well this worked. Having that one tiny success makes me feel just a tiny bit better. And feeling just a tiny bit better makes it easier to do the next tiny thing. This third “M” - Movement - leads to another “M” - Momentum. I’m reminded of that snow-miser guy in the holiday cartoon - the one who learns to put one foot in front of the other, and soon he’ll be walking cross the floor!

So that’s me right now, putting one foot in front of the other. The past few months were tough, but now I’m in a better place, and more importantly, I’ve developed some new skills to help with the next rough patch. It’s true that learning never stops. I thought that by the time I’d reached my 50s, I’d know myself so well that there’d be nothing left to learn. But no, there’s always more. The depths of the human psyche are so deep that it's probably not possible to ever stop learning about yourself. The road is long, and the journey never ends. Which is just the way I like it.

Wishing you serenity,

Kimba

© Kimberlee Martin, 2021. All rights reserved.