I wrote the following passage almost a month ago during a spell of winter rain. I was feeling rather low at the time but noticed something different from what I use to consider seasonal depression. I didn't care to post then, because I didn't need a sympathy response. I also wasn't trying to bring anyone down. (Hence, cute street dog photo above.) The feeling past after a couple of days anyway along with the clouds.
A lot has changed since then. Spring is approaching along with Chile's independence festivities beginning this week. I'm shedding a few layers of clothing. I've enjoyed several beach days, hanging with friends, BBQs, a little exploring and pick-up soccer. I also received some really exciting news last week that may change or shape the direction of my career- whatever that entails. The news isn't public yet, but I should be able to share later this week.
Life is good.
Still, I think the passage does represent an important change of my perspective towards depression, perhaps a more optimistic understanding of it. So, I find it appropriate for my blog about change. It also shows that not every single day living abroad for me is crazy exciting but I just gotta ride it out until the next one.
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I’m enjoying my time in Chile. There are happy moments. Fun moments. Curious moments. Confusing moments. Quiet moments.
There are times when I’m alone. And times I want to be alone. Times I don’t want to do anything. Times when I wish I could lay in bed forever.
Today, I lay in bed nearly all day. It’s a holiday and I don’t have to work. I see very little of the gray day from my window. I’m not motivated to get up as I listen to the sound of the rain pouring on the roof. It’s been pouring rain for days. I lay in bed with my thoughts, halk awake, and let the time pass- not that I have control of it anyway.
I want to say this feels like depression, but it’s different.
I remember I didn’t experience depression until college. I think depression is more of a feeling than a thought. Althought thoughts can be depressing too. During the times I was depressed in college, I didn’t think I was free at the moment. I was stuck. I felt like shit. I didn’t think I had any control to change anything. Whether I had to write a paper, stay awake, go to class, or pretend I was happy so that I wouldn’t bring down my friends... I didn’t care about anything that was happening.
I thought I’d rather be in any other place doing any other thing than what I was doing at that moment. I thought I’d rather be asleep then awake. And when I was awake, I thought my bed was warmer then ever and that it’s the best place in the world. I didn’t ever want to leave but eventually I would have too, and that thought was depressing.
Now, I feel a similar warmth and attachment to my bed.
In the past, my times of depression often aligned with the winter season. Perhaps I was depressed because I was staying inside for most of the day with my motivation frozen. Or maybe I thought it was okay to stay depressed inside while not missing much during the cold days in Michigan.
Now, I feel similar need to stay inside. The difference: I’m now okay with it.
In college, I had so much anticipation for the future. And I put so much pressure on the myself in the present. I thought I could learn and be productive at a constant or increasing pace. I couldn’t accept being depressed nor my lack of motivation. The days were unproductive, long and seemed to last forever. The happy days seemed too far away to be optimistic.
But now, I understand that when I feel this way, it is what I need for the moment. I give myself permission to rest, away from the outside world and any of its expectations. When I hear the sound of rain resume on the roof, I am grateful. As if the universe has also given me permission to do nothing.
The emotional cycles in my life tend towards extreme highs and lows. I recognize this now and perhaps its necessity. I’m okay feeling the lows whereas I wasn’t in the past. I recognize this feeling as a healthy time for rest. A time to be alone. A time to forget motivation and my own expectations of myself. A time to recover. A time to be optimistic and ready myself for the exciting future ahead. Perhaps this feeling will last a day or months. Either way, I have been learning to be patient with myself. Enjoying myself, my thoughts, my feelings, the good and the bad.
From the comfort of my bed, I can still experience the world through three windows: From the bedroom window, I see the outside world as it spins and rains. For now, I’m not missing much. From the TV, I experience fantasy worlds that are much more exciting than my present. I’m fine allowing my imagination to dance while my body lays still. And with my computer, I write my thoughts and fantasize my own future. What will I do next?
That is my question. What to do? I am more free now then ever. It is totally okay for me to do nothing now. To do nothing forever, to not take advantage of my freedom and opportunity, that would be depressing. Or would it be choosing just to live? Why do I think just living is depressing?
Perhaps, it’s because I think I’m great. I’m not talking up my ego here. Rather, I think it is an inherent human condition to think of oneself as great. I’m sure other species have feelings and thoughts but I’m not sure if they think they are great too. But we humans may think we are really special, or at least we should. We may think our lives are special even if we don’t think life itself is special. What differentiates humans from other species on Earth may not be our capacity of intelligence and emotion but rather the responsibility that comes with being special.
As humans, we are privaledged to live at the top of the food chain. Our actions and choices in the present shape life and its future in dramatic ways. Not only because we’re at the top, but because most of our human population lives outside of a simple, balanced, and sustainable life cycle.
We can’t blame the birds for dropping nuclear bombs from the sky. Or the dogs or cows for their complicated oil dependent lifestyles that spill catastrophically into the oceans while ruining marine life. We can’t explain why we think the rare instance of a bear eating a human is much more devastating than millions of humans eating millions of species of animals every year. The only explanation seems to be: Because we as humans are special.
So, since I am inherently special as a human, I feel responsible to do more than just living which only requires healthy air, minimal shelter, water, food, some exercise and rest. With my responsibility as a human, I feel that I have a purpose for my life. What is it? How will I make a difference? How will I live? How will I be happy? I don’t know. And that’s okay.
Aside from just living, there is little that I care about in terms of material things. I do enjoy fancy ideas and creating them into tangible mediums. And I really enjoy the company of my family and friends. But they are far away now. And I don’t know what I’ll create with my life next. So for now, I’ll just lie in bed and rest.
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[And here's a random photo update of dogs only until I get my Flickr account going.]
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