I am fascinated by how humans hold tiny little moments of our lives sacred. We all have a few things that have taken such a firm grasp of our souls that they affect us. By becoming emotional, by dedicating time to it, by thought or deed. We mourn moments that are ours alone to hold witness.
Most of our memories are changed and stylized by our mind, to be catogorized and logged away in an attempt to organize our pysche. Or slip into our lives and behaviours, making us who we are.
The mind, or my mind, or everyone’s mind, tend to try and tidy things up on occasion. I have found past memories hiding in the oddest places. You would think it would happen during one of those late night/no sleep sessions. Instead I remember a late night skinny dip while waiting for coffee. No I am not writing about that.
I spent a set amount of time every few days to reflect on my memories and events that built the temple of me. It’s like a form of meditation. It’s never what I call fun, but I found it worthwhile.
I make it sound like it’s some kind of daydreaming, and I guess it is, except the constant sucking. This was my rock bottom. I couldn’t leave the apartment for longer than a hour or so a day. I couldn’t operate past that in a human capacity. It was bedshowersofafoodbed. My body was smarter than me and decided ‘it was done’ and shut me down. And while I couldn’t adult at all, my brain took it upon itself to keep me occupied by reminding me of all kinds of shit I had shoved into my head’s back closet.
I will tell anyone who will listen that support matters. Any kind, really. I managed to be very lucky. Everyone told me I shouldn’t feel guilty about the time I’m taking off. This was around the time I found out being constantly racked with guilt about everything was a symptom of depression, so I had to be told to stay down a lot. I could go into more detail but it just makes me sound like a sloth. It was kind of like that. I do make a lot of little noises like a baby sloth, so at least I was/am cute.
Let’s just stop for a second so I can thank everyone for helping me, coddled me and entertained me during the past six months. I wish I could tell how hard it is to relearn who you after living for other people your whole life. I’m still working on it, and that’s fine. Because I know my friends have my back. Which is what can really matter.
If you are close to someone who has allowed you to be in on this, there is a reason. They trust you, you are safe for them to come to with this and they hope you can help and support them. I know this is hardcore adulting. I know it will freak some people out to be put in this position. But it’s not too hard to be there for someone. Just be there. Checking in every once and a while, including them in plans, understanding that most of the time they won’t be able to come. Just be a friend.
Have a good life.