It is difficult for me to accept that even in paradise, my depression and anxiety are a problem.
Those of you who have dealt with chronic anxiety, or even panic attacks know just how painful a companion it can be. It is next to impossible for me to understand. Even on those rare occasions where I can intellectually make sense of why I’m feeling so awful, it doesn’t necessarily alleviate my suffering.
Sometimes, I feel like the pain is unbearable. It has been easier for me to cope with my physical pain, at some level, then it has been to deal with my emotional pain.
There is something more solid and straightforward about physical pain. It is never fun to deal with, of course. But the skills necessary for surviving it, seem more accessible to me.
Though my anxiety continues to frequently overwhelm me, I am able to stand it, most of the time. In the past, I made many suicide attempts, trying to escape it’s clutches.
This is progress, for sure!
I often wish it would just disappear. I often get angry at myself for feeling the way I do, and for not having more control over these feelings.
I have learned to show myself more compassion than I once did. I have understood that our supposed weaknesses, and strengths, are intertwined.
I have a better sense of what it means to accept my humanity. We are incredibly messy, messed-up, complicated, and vulnerable beings. When I am able to remind myself of this, it can make my struggles a little bit easier.
There is so much on the web, and in this culture about reaching a state of enlightenment, and rising above our concerns. I used to strive towards becoming an enlightened being, which is in itself an oxymoron.
Finally, I am finding some contentment, occasionally, in being human, and fallible, and messy.
I still wish the pain would go away, but somehow in judging it less harshly, it has become easier to bear.