A few days ago, I pulled myself out of bed and sat at my desk to start work, still in my pajamas. I looked around the apartment, taking inventory. The sink was full of dishes. There was trash on my desk from yesterday. The laundry was piling up. The stove was dirty. "You're officially in a funk," I told myself.
I've been having these self-diagnosed "funks" for many years. The only way I can describe the it is that I feel heavy. I feel like everything (and I mean Everything) will take an enormous amount of energy. Even the simplest tasks like putting on shoes or taking a shower suddenly seem like too much work. I have no idea what triggers these episodes. Sometimes they last a day and sometimes weeks, although I've gotten better at finding my way out of them.
On this particular day, I sat in front of the computer for several minutes, just staring. "You can do this. You can do this," I kept telling myself. Finally, I opened the web browser. And the first thing to pop up was the news story about tWitch's suicide. I felt like I couldn't breathe. I have no idea why the death of someone I had never met, that I knew very little about, could hurt like that. But it did hurt. Hadn't I seen him and his wife dancing in front of the Christmas tree just days ago? I opened my phone and found that recent video, played it on replay. I cried the funk right out of me. I set my status to Busy and got up. I cleaned the kitchen, started the laundry, took a shower, and came back and had a productive day of work. But his grin in that video has haunted me ever since.
I've seen and heard all kinds of reactions to the news since that morning. Lots of judgements and assumptions. One of the most common sentiments is, "he had so many people that loved him." I don't have any idea what caused him to pick up a gun and shoot himself. I never will. But I do know that having people love you doesn't always make mental illness better. In fact, it can make things more difficult. When other people care about you, you can feel like you aren't deserving. Because they care, you can be a burden. I want the people I love to be happy, not worrying about me.
Today, I watched It's a Wonderful Life. The scene that really got me thinking wasn't George's thoughts of suicide of the revelations that came after. It was actually the scene when he comes home from work after losing the money. He is gruff with his kids and wife. He yells at a stranger on the phone. He let his own stress and anxiety boil over and hurt other people. I do the same thing. I think we all do that sometimes. It was obvious that George felt guilty. He felt like a bad father and husband, which probably contributed to his decisions. We don't all have a far-reaching impact on the world like George did in that movie, or like tWitch did in real life, but we are all allowed to forgive ourselves for our emotional reactions.
Neglecting my chores doesn't make me a bad person. Snapping at my family doesn't make me a bad daughter or sister. Forgiveness is so important. For yourself and for others. Actions aren't always intentional, but rather side effects of something else going on in people's lives. Saying "I'm always here for you" is a nice gesture, but it doesn't mean much if we hand out criticism and advice easier than understanding and patience. Today might be terrible. Maybe tomorrow will be too. But every morning is an opportunity for something unexpected, something wonderful, something worth sticking around for.
No comments:
Post a Comment