I'm having a little trouble staying motivated lately. It happens. I'm not too awfully concerned, but this situation always leads to the brainstorming of new methods.... and new madness, frankly. Currently, I feel I've aquired plenty of inspiration, but since beginning this full-time gig as an artist, I've learned that inspiration and motivation are acutely separate in their applications. At times, the inspiration is so overwhelming that it just springs forth without effort, but most days, there is much discipline required to channel it.... most days my inspiration swirls in fragments around itself, and if I am not motivated to help it adhere to something, I'm screwed. This is precisely where the trouble lies for me today.
I suppose I'd say it's probably a human condition, in general. I suppose I'd also say that my mind is not typically ensnared with the chaos of unbridled thoughts and/or preoccupied with the dramatic variety often anymore. SO... when it occurs, I am easily overwhelmed. Right now, I am simply writing it out. It is the only possible way for me to find balance or clarity when all else fails.
In the last few days, there has been an ever-so-subtle game of tug o'war between myself and a little affliction most commonly known as depression. I try to view it mostly as an 'opportunity' these days, but it wasn't always like that. I've struggled with serotonin and dopamine deficiencies since I was in my teens. For a lot of years, I just assumed it was normal.... that everyone had to go through it... that I was always going to have to fight for my life in one way or another.
Depression almost claimed me more times than I'd like to admit, but when I got sober, I discovered some ways to manage it....without self-medication and without prescribed medication. Though I am grateful to remain unmedicated, I am aware it is nothing short of a miracle and believe that medication can and should be sought under the care of a professional if needed. So once I stopped self-medicating, I eventually began to learn that EVERYTHING I put into my body counts for something. EVERYTHING. Ceasing to consume massive amounts depressants certainly cured a few of my ills, but long term, I have really learned to listen to my body, my soul... my divine source. I quit smoking a year after I quit drinking. In the last year or so, I have diligently monitored the foods I eat, and now the routine is pretty streamlined. SO... when the depression comes knocking, I can usually narrow it down.
In the last few days, I have tried to work my way back to a healthy diet. This process is never as easy as I want it to be. Because depression is such a powerful foe, it takes some time to muster the bravery to go forth. Even though I know that ALL things in this life are temporary, and NOTHING is outside the realm of possibility if I simply choose the perception which best serves my chances of staying healthy.... it is, each and every time, as terrifying as the last. And there is a process, each time, through which I discover the power of faith and gratitude like I've never known it. But first, I must face the fear. The fear that "I will always wake up with a hopeless feeling in the depths of my gut". The fear that "everything really is for nothing and what once felt like a life of great purpose was just a good story I told myself". The fear that "love really is an illusion, and only the fittest will survive... and I'm unfit... yada yada. ". all the untruths.
Again, it may sound severe, but the truth is..... it IS. It is a very severe condition. It is a, often times, fatal illness. But it is also a part of my existence here on this planet, and I have learned to embrace it rather than conceal it. I heard it described recently by David Letterman (of all people) as "you get on an elevator and the bottom drops out. You can't stand looking at the sunlight. You can't wait to get back in bed at night...... it's a sinkhole. And people who have gone through it know exactly what I'm talking about." When I heard him say these things, there was no question he'd been where I've been.... and so many others have been. So what? We deal with some plummeting chemical levels in our brains from time to time. Is there really any shame in this? Nope... not any more than we would be ashamed if we had a tumor the size of grapefruit in our heads.
This is the often untold reality of depression. There is a terrible stigma attached to mental illness which all too often prevents us from talking about it enough to find solutions. Depression does not discriminate, and it brings it's A-game EVERY. SINGLE. TIME., and though I think I know what to expect by now, it shakes me to my core without fail. If not only for a split second, there is inevitably the crippling fear that "it's here to stay this time, and I will always feel this way." BUT, I possess much more knowledge than I once did.... spiritually speaking. My intellect is no match, but the light inside of me is always on. I just have to remove the blanket from the lampshade (which is sometimes way more complex than it sounds). That blanket has many forms including the food I eat, the thoughts I allow, the people I surround myself with, the outlets I provide myself, the amount of time I spend in meditation each day.... one or the other... or all of them. But the common denominator is whether I'm allowing myself to live in fear.... or whether I will snatch that blanket from atop my love light and give myself the opportunities I deserve. Eventually, because I truly believe, at center of myself, that my life has purpose and love is real... that heavy quilt of fear will go up in flames anyway.
LOVE ONLY BURNS WITH THE UTMOST INTENSITY.
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