No, I’m OK. Just been a bit hollow and sluggish, a creaky old ship with the wind howling through my timbers, but I’ve been sailing on through. Spending recent days trying to let go instead of grasping at negative thoughts, trying to relax away from the swirling vortex of rumination, has been tiring. It brings them all on worse. It’s frightening, in a way, an act of faith - I guess there’s something of a defense mechanism at play - you get a negative thought smashing in from nowhere and it’s like you’re being attacked, and you tighten yourself all up, tense yourself, get prepared for battle. The rumination is like analysing the attack from every angle, replaying it over and over and over, without being able to diffuse it.
So to practise the art of yielding, of nodding when a negative thought arises, ungrasping, unclasping, and moving on, is distinctly bizarre. It’s counter-intuitive, you feel dizzy, worried you’re making yourself vulnerable.
And the negative thoughts come thick and fast. They have been today, yesterday, the day before. But I’m telling myself this is because they’re worried, they’re doubling their efforts, hitting me with all they’ve got, because they sense me breaking away from them.
So I’m trying to walk the line, to do the things, to go to work, do the work, go food shopping, cook vegetable chilli, portion the chilli out for the next three days, write my blog, sleep, get up, keep on going.
Trying not to wobble. Trying not to look down. Just go, step at a time, over that chasm.
So I guess I’m not really feeling bleak. There is a lot of bleakness. But I’ve got a tightrope strung out across it. And I’m walking.
......
Music: I Forgot to Be Your Lover, by William Bell. What better way to soothe those tempestuous mental waters than with a classic slice of sensual sixties soul? Oh man, this is just, stone cold, the sound of healing. Wait? Did I do this song already? This all seems familiar. After all these days, who the hell knows? And who's counting? Ta raaaaaa.
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