Infections of the heart
I've been silent again, enjoying the company of friends and family, catching up on the majority of the movies I missed during the last year, eating out a lot. All in all I would say life is good. I'm starting to try to come to terms with what lead me to this place of darkness and discouragement. A place I've perpetually dwelled for the last year or so. The easy excuses just aren't enough any more - the end of a long term relationship, troubles at work... I've come to the conclusion that these are just symptoms of deeper problems. The thing about depression is, it very often comes from a deep place inside us. From some old hurt or sadness. It bubbles up like some old infection every few years, striking us when we least expect it and leaving us breathless.
I had an abscessed wisdom tooth once. Every few months or years my mouth would flare up with an infection. I'd assume that my wisdom teeth were finally comming in, and this was just part of the process, or that I'd gotten some food particle caught somewhere, when in truth I'd had a deep infection in my mouth for years. When the dentists finally took xrays they pointed out this pocket of fluid in my jaw about the size of a nickel. I was amazed. That infection had been sitting there for years, just stewing, bubbling to the surface every once and a while. Depression is exactly like that. We often have deep hurts, things we don't even know about or remember well enough to recognize as hurts, that are just sitting there, infected, and bubbling to the surface every once and a while in the form of depression and extream emotions.
For me, my hurt came from my father. I really feel like I've forgiven him, but when it comes down to it, he's still the voice inside my head, reminding me of how much of a failure I am, driving home all of my weaknesses and imperfections. The hurts he inflicted in my life in younger years, and the deep wounds he dealt in later years are still there, deep inside me. Although I've forgiven him, and effectively cut him from my life, he's still with me somehow. Because I let him linger. Because I judge myself like he judged me. Like a deep seeded wound, those hurts have become infected deep inside my heart. And so every few years, this depression comes bubbling up. Often times the thing that triggers it is something from my present life - abandonment is a big trigger - but the pain when it comes is old and stale.
How do I deal with this depression? How do I overcome it, conquer it, and otherwise kick it out of my life for good? The answer is both simple and extraordinarily complex. I have to dig out the infection. I have to scrape the wound, and pull out the badness until it is gone. How is this done? That's a hard one for me. My father is a long ways away, and if I have any say in the matter I will never talk to him again. But in truth I don't really have to talk to him to be free of him. Instead I have to go back to the place when I was hurt, and deal with those feelings like I never did when he was around.
When in my parents home, I hid just about every feeling that was not deemed positive or appropriate. Anger, fear, and even sadness were carefully concealed under a mask. I was the obidient cheerful daughter always. I still am even to this day. I'm so disconnected with my feels that I have trouble acknowledging that any feelings other than cheer. Mr Spock would be so proud. I didn't used to think this was a bad thing. Anger hurts people. My father taught me that. And fear should be faced and destroyed. Sadness should be hidden so I do not discourage others. Yet I did feel those feelings, I felt them and shoved them down, deep inside where they began to rot.
Now I have to purge that rot, by some miracle I have to take myself back to the child that I was, and allow myself to feel the outrage, and the sadness, and the fear that I could not feel during my youth. I have to acknowledge that those feelings were there, and in that manner I will begin the process of scraping the wound, and of purging the in
Just recently I’ve been forced to acknowledge that I have been afraid all my life. Fear is my primary motivating emotion, it influences everything I do and say. Who would have thought? I have no fear of death, disease, loss of loved ones, spiders, or any of the other “normal” fears, but it seems I’m afraid of just about everything else. Saying the wrong thing, making people dislike me, loosing my job, making people I love leave me, and dozens of others. I’m a frightened little cat who would rather crawl into a hole and never relate to anyone again if it meant I’d never be hurt again. Pretty sad, eh?
Sadness has always been a private thing for me. I cry alone. That’s my rule. It’s far safer to show cheer than sorrow. Happiness has always been my default emotion. It’s safe, and it encourages others. I’ve always been the “girl that’s always smiling.” I’ve smiled through the darkest parts of my life. Smiled even when tears were in my eyes, and my heart felt like it was cracking. I’ve been proud of that designation; for it gave me hope that I might be succeeding in my goal at bringing sunshine into peoples lives. I still share that hope, but I have to wonder if even my enforced cheer also comes from a root of fear. Fear that if people knew how sad I was or how afraid they would leave me. Or wouldn’t want to be around me. Fear that if anyone realized just how messed up I am they’d revival me.
I read a book once where a deranged character referred to his anger as “the dragon.” He’d threaten his little sister with the words “You don’t want to wake the dragon do you?” For him the dragon was a dark, dangerous thing. A beast that burned with it’s breath and rent with it’s claws, that left a trail of casualties in it’s wake. That’s exactly how I view anger in general. Nothing good can from anger. Most violent crimes come from that source, and so much other darkness. I’ve seen that darkness first hand. I learned early on to fear anger, in others and in myself, it is by far the most difficult of all emotions for me to express, and the easiest to repress. Yet someone very wise pointed out to me that the dragon of anger is rarely more than three inches tall when first birthed, only when caged does it become the fire breathing nightmare of stories. I have to find some way to let the dragon breath his tiny little fire out when he’s small instead of burying anger deep inside and letting it grow into the large, dark, and resentful.
In truth, I’m not sure where to start. Especially with the anger. I feel like the part of me that can express anger is completely disconnected and out of order. Yet I have to somehow go back to the time so many years ago that I was hurt, and sad, and angry and I have to let myself feel those things. I have to release those feelings and use them to purge my father’s condemnation from my mind once and for all. Only then will I be free of him and of this dark infection his words and actions have left in my life.
I had an abscessed wisdom tooth once. Every few months or years my mouth would flare up with an infection. I'd assume that my wisdom teeth were finally comming in, and this was just part of the process, or that I'd gotten some food particle caught somewhere, when in truth I'd had a deep infection in my mouth for years. When the dentists finally took xrays they pointed out this pocket of fluid in my jaw about the size of a nickel. I was amazed. That infection had been sitting there for years, just stewing, bubbling to the surface every once and a while. Depression is exactly like that. We often have deep hurts, things we don't even know about or remember well enough to recognize as hurts, that are just sitting there, infected, and bubbling to the surface every once and a while in the form of depression and extream emotions.
For me, my hurt came from my father. I really feel like I've forgiven him, but when it comes down to it, he's still the voice inside my head, reminding me of how much of a failure I am, driving home all of my weaknesses and imperfections. The hurts he inflicted in my life in younger years, and the deep wounds he dealt in later years are still there, deep inside me. Although I've forgiven him, and effectively cut him from my life, he's still with me somehow. Because I let him linger. Because I judge myself like he judged me. Like a deep seeded wound, those hurts have become infected deep inside my heart. And so every few years, this depression comes bubbling up. Often times the thing that triggers it is something from my present life - abandonment is a big trigger - but the pain when it comes is old and stale.
How do I deal with this depression? How do I overcome it, conquer it, and otherwise kick it out of my life for good? The answer is both simple and extraordinarily complex. I have to dig out the infection. I have to scrape the wound, and pull out the badness until it is gone. How is this done? That's a hard one for me. My father is a long ways away, and if I have any say in the matter I will never talk to him again. But in truth I don't really have to talk to him to be free of him. Instead I have to go back to the place when I was hurt, and deal with those feelings like I never did when he was around.
When in my parents home, I hid just about every feeling that was not deemed positive or appropriate. Anger, fear, and even sadness were carefully concealed under a mask. I was the obidient cheerful daughter always. I still am even to this day. I'm so disconnected with my feels that I have trouble acknowledging that any feelings other than cheer. Mr Spock would be so proud. I didn't used to think this was a bad thing. Anger hurts people. My father taught me that. And fear should be faced and destroyed. Sadness should be hidden so I do not discourage others. Yet I did feel those feelings, I felt them and shoved them down, deep inside where they began to rot.
Now I have to purge that rot, by some miracle I have to take myself back to the child that I was, and allow myself to feel the outrage, and the sadness, and the fear that I could not feel during my youth. I have to acknowledge that those feelings were there, and in that manner I will begin the process of scraping the wound, and of purging the in
Just recently I’ve been forced to acknowledge that I have been afraid all my life. Fear is my primary motivating emotion, it influences everything I do and say. Who would have thought? I have no fear of death, disease, loss of loved ones, spiders, or any of the other “normal” fears, but it seems I’m afraid of just about everything else. Saying the wrong thing, making people dislike me, loosing my job, making people I love leave me, and dozens of others. I’m a frightened little cat who would rather crawl into a hole and never relate to anyone again if it meant I’d never be hurt again. Pretty sad, eh?
Sadness has always been a private thing for me. I cry alone. That’s my rule. It’s far safer to show cheer than sorrow. Happiness has always been my default emotion. It’s safe, and it encourages others. I’ve always been the “girl that’s always smiling.” I’ve smiled through the darkest parts of my life. Smiled even when tears were in my eyes, and my heart felt like it was cracking. I’ve been proud of that designation; for it gave me hope that I might be succeeding in my goal at bringing sunshine into peoples lives. I still share that hope, but I have to wonder if even my enforced cheer also comes from a root of fear. Fear that if people knew how sad I was or how afraid they would leave me. Or wouldn’t want to be around me. Fear that if anyone realized just how messed up I am they’d revival me.
I read a book once where a deranged character referred to his anger as “the dragon.” He’d threaten his little sister with the words “You don’t want to wake the dragon do you?” For him the dragon was a dark, dangerous thing. A beast that burned with it’s breath and rent with it’s claws, that left a trail of casualties in it’s wake. That’s exactly how I view anger in general. Nothing good can from anger. Most violent crimes come from that source, and so much other darkness. I’ve seen that darkness first hand. I learned early on to fear anger, in others and in myself, it is by far the most difficult of all emotions for me to express, and the easiest to repress. Yet someone very wise pointed out to me that the dragon of anger is rarely more than three inches tall when first birthed, only when caged does it become the fire breathing nightmare of stories. I have to find some way to let the dragon breath his tiny little fire out when he’s small instead of burying anger deep inside and letting it grow into the large, dark, and resentful.
In truth, I’m not sure where to start. Especially with the anger. I feel like the part of me that can express anger is completely disconnected and out of order. Yet I have to somehow go back to the time so many years ago that I was hurt, and sad, and angry and I have to let myself feel those things. I have to release those feelings and use them to purge my father’s condemnation from my mind once and for all. Only then will I be free of him and of this dark infection his words and actions have left in my life.