Saturation. Friday March 25, 2016
I have reached saturation point.
The spiral downwards has started to grip more and more tightly; the more I fight the fatigue and depression, the worse it gets. The more I look outside myself for ideas and fail to find the time and energy to work on them the more overwhelmed I become.
On Sunday I decided to stop, to go on strike, to allow myself to fall into the depths of despair and inactivity. I might as well accept my darkness – it's where I am going anyway.
It frightens me but I know I'll come out of it.
And repeated experience has shown me that while I'm there, I'll rediscover my own wisdom.
Sometimes I just need silence and stillness and no further input. I know when I have gone beyond my introverted limits when I can't listen to the radio or even listen to music (a great passion) any more.
So I abandoned myself to the sofa, I closed my eyes, I lay and felt the feelings, I lay and let the thoughts surface.
And as they began to surface, they began to dissipate.
After a time I was able to open my eyes again (always a sign that my flat battery has been plugged in and is beginning to charge). I was able to stare at the blank wall and listen to the rain, the children passing my house on their way to school and the traffic hurrying along the main road on the other side of the hedge.
And before long I was able to look at the tree beyond the window, its branches buffeted by the wind, brushing against the grey sky.
A rose in a pot on the windowsill caught my gaze. I have trimmed it recently, cutting back its dying leaves and unhealthy looking stems. Now it has fresh growth, the smallest of its new leaves holding my attention for longer than anything else.
I can't think of my life as a whole at this point or of what will or won't matter in twenty years time. I can only think of basic tasks; eat, drink tea, wash, find out how those I care about are getting on.
For me, there's a time for gathering and seeking, and there's a time for expressing and de-cluttering.
At the moment I am in the latter; I don't want lots of new ideas. I want to steadily, doggedly, build on what I already have, what I'm already doing. Flitting from idea to idea only adds to the clutter.
The wisdom I need is inside me but it takes time and a lot of staring into space to find it.
It is there, somewhere, if I put some trust in myself.
A Moodscope member.
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