A new year. I feel different. I've been reading Eat, Pray, Love, and it occurred to me this morning that my "About Me" section is kind of funny. I'm seeking God, and beauty, and stillness, am I? As Ketut says, it's same-same.
I've never really thought about seeking God, not earnestly. I've wanted to be that kind of person, the Liz Gilbert-type, who tirelessly searches for evidence of the divine. But I've never actively done so. I think maybe I'd like to start.
Sometimes I miss how I used to feel. Not really contented, but at least grounded in some way. With a plan. There's a comfort to be found in living life passively -- reacting, never striking out on my own initiative. But it didn't get me far, or at least, not to a very healthy place. So I've been working on the healing.
Since last week, I've been participating in a psychiatric day program, and my favorite social worker there asked, penetratingly, "How badly do you want to feel better?"
How badly do I want to feel better? In the throws of distress, the answer comes easily, desperately: SO BADLY. So very badly. But when the anxiety dissipates and the depression clears, ever so slightly? Well, not quite so badly, it seems. It's too easy to become lax in my self-care practices when the need is less urgent.
When I wake in the morning, I am compelled to follow my self-imposed schedule: two rounds of sun salutations (only two, but lordy, it takes it out of me), balanced breathing, then meditation. Then a shower. Then breakfast. Lying there, in a warm bed, I dread all of it. And so I ask myself: how badly do I want to feel better? And I peel off the covers, and force myself to just stop thinking, and do. There is no psyching myself up for this morning of rituals. There is just doing it.
This morning, I woke up too late (way past dawn), took my sweet time getting downstairs to where my purple yoga mat sat patiently in the corner, and probably lasted about ten minutes in seated meditation before my back hurt too much and my right foot was just a leetle too numb to bear. So I compromised and meditated lying down.
Maybe tomorrow I'll last eleven minutes.