Toil and Trouble

"One of the symptoms of an approaching nervous breakdown is the belief that one's work is terribly important." ~ Bertrand Russell

My mood has cleared today. Sometimes you just have to wait it out. I used to have a two-day turnaround on depression, but it's definitely not something I can always count on. No matter how long it takes, fighting it only seems to make it more entrenched. I've learned to just let the depression stay as long as it needs to, but lately that feels a little scary to me.

I'm bogged down with this project I've been working on. For two days I've tried to understand what the software makers are trying to tell me (via the Help menu) and for two days I've been completely clueless. I could have sworn I took some tests that indicated I'm an intelligent person. If that's so, why the hell can't I figure this out?

I've finished the first half and everyone is happy with the results. The second half has always been the most critical for me and not because it would make everyone's my co-workers' lives easier. I mean, that's a good thing, but the really crucial issue is my ability to beat the software into submission. I enjoy doing this so I should be good at it, right? Yes, that's what I thought, too.

I printed out some of the help topics and took them home with me last night. I thought maybe being in a different environment and not sitting in front of the computer might be more productive. If I'm in front of the computer, I can't stop myself from experimenting. Sometimes you just have to leave the computer alone while you figure out what to do with the stupid thing. That was pointless. As I read and made notes, I could tell that my comprehension skills were deficient. I decided to stop and work on it again today.

It's a beautiful day here. The sun is shining again, which always has a profound effect on my mood. My little squirrel friends should be out and about, but I don't see any of them. It's a little chillier than it has been (that would be in the 80's) and they're usually energized by the coolness. It's also Perky Puppy weather, so I imagine my dogs will keep me busy when I get home.

Hubby's been busy with a project all week, but I'm making him apply for a job I'm fairly certain he can get. This employer is so desperate they won't care that he hasn't had a regular job in 20 years. I talked to him earlier this morning and he told me he was working on the online application. Hubby having a job would go a long way towards improving my general outlook on things.

All I have to do now is get through the rest of the day. What then? Well, all I'll have to do is get through the weekeend.

Inner Darkness

"The thought of suicide is a powerful solace: my means of it one gets through many a bad night." ~ Friedrich Nietzsche

This year I've been having more difficulty than usual getting through the anniversary of my father's suicide. I've been having flashbacks of anguish which never really goes away. It just lurks in the recesses of my brain, ready to manifest spontaneously.

Nuclear winter. For months after his death, that internal voice we all have that chatters away about everything went suddenly silent. "What was it that I used to think about," I wondered. Even if I could find something to think about, my brain refused to hold onto it. I learned to live with the silence. It distorted my sense of time. We'd go out to eat and, before the food got there, it already felt like we'd been there for hours. Absence of inner commentary didn't make me bored; I was too traumatized for that. The pain was so intense that sometimes it was all I could do to get through the next 60 seconds.

My therapist and I think that the anniversary is particularly difficult this year because of my own inner darkness. I've known since I was a child my emotional nightfall that calls me to give up the fight . I understand the black hole my father was drawn into because I've been stranded in that vortex myself. I'm there now and have been for months.

The only good thing that came from my father's death is the certainty that I will never check out while there are still people around who care for me. Nonetheless, I find myself using the same coping mechanism: "All I have to do is get through the next five minutes or the next hour or the next day." It's not a productive way to manage one's life. This moment is the only moment I have. Counting down the time until my interior despondency lifts causes me to miss this moment.

I only just started noticing I'd returned to emotional countdown methods. Feeling is absent. Nothing is worth doing. I go home every night and read "The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying" so that I can remember there's meaning in my suffering, that everything is illusory--even my pain. We all suffer. It's in the nature of being on this earth. And who better to endure it than I? I've had lots and lots of practice.

I can empathize with my father. I just have to find a different outcome. On the anniversary of his death, I'd wish him to know that I'm sorry. I'm sorry he had such a dreadful life that resulted in him inflicting enormous damage to the people in his life, especially his daughter. I'm sorry I wasn't able to save him, even though I know the only person who can save you is yourself. I'd wish my father to know that I'm using his gift to make me stronger and more capable of enduring these dark hours. I'd wish my father to know that I thank him for that gift, that I love him and that I forgive him.