Just came upon this article via my Newsfeed with the headline “7 Ways To Tell If A Millennial Is Depressed“, underneath it had “frequently waking up at 4 or 5 in the morning due to elevated levels of stress hormones“. Em…I’m doing that lately. So I read the article.
I’ve been getting up at not just 4am, but also at 3am, and 2am. Back to normal for a few days, but again yesterday morning UP at 4am. However, I did have to get up at 5am. I don’t have to get up so early, but it gives me time in the morning to chill out before my day.
Well, very few of the other ‘symptoms’ however apply to me. I’m not especially pessimistic, usually quite the opposite. I still enjoy the things I always have, and I actually drink less…and no other addictions ‘cept cigarettes. Lack of Motivation? Meh. Maybe sometimes, but nothing new there.
Somehow we start sliding into that hole, and before we know it we’re too far gone to get ourselves out. Stress, life, chemical imbalance, all push us along that slippery slope.
Though, on the other hand, maybe I’ve just grown so accustom to aspects of myself that its time to adjust? Perhaps I’m just avoiding the difficult sorts of changes that are sometimes necessary? It’s possible to get so used to being a certain way, that we somehow have come to believe that’s just who we are.
But it doesn’t have to be who we are. We don’t have to define ourselves by our resilience to stress, depression and grief. And it’s always right there, nudging you down, as you expend so much energy striving to overcome it. It feels sometimes like you’re pushing out that sunshine, rather than basking in it. And why should we have to work so hard to just feel ok?
Sitting out on the stoop last night after work, after the wild thunderstorms had rolled through, I looked around at the sights and smells of my life here in this village within a city. This place, this me, this opportunity is all right there before me, and I’m not sure now where to start.
Or, do I just cruise a wee smidge longer? I really hate having too many things I HAVE to do in my life. I like solitude, and quiet walks, wooded glens and sometimes just the ticking of the clock for company. I don’t always stay in, but it pleases me sometimes.
The sights and sounds out my window entrance me. Bird song in the morning, at night occasionally I’ll hear off in the distance a siren, perhaps laughter from the neighbours, or a group out for an evening stroll chattering away. Peaceful, calm, and just enough activity to make me feel a part of something, yet not always compelled to join in all the time.
It’s the perfect place for me to reside at present. It lures me out into it’s charms though. Along this cities pathways, along the river Thames I have spent many a happy hour. That sounds so cliché, but so very true.
I really have no good reason to be happy. I’m dead broke, and the entire contents of my life fit within a Bachelor Apartment (though somewhat snuggly). My job is ok, it’s a job. I have few friends, so those I do have are precious. At my age I expected to be a lot more settled, own property, and all that jazz. Just me and my dog usually though, but I feel wealthy, and free.
So if I slide, if I slip, I guess it’s ok maybe to trip. So be it. I’m riding these foothills of grief I guess, riding along in this old Jalopy.
Ok, so that’s all straightened out, now how does one teach a dog not to be afraid of thunderstorms?