I read this in a poem, which I will briefly touch on this week. The author writes that happiness begins with us, and acknowledging this reality will lead to peace.
Adrift
Three weeks in, I feel like I am still drifting—unsure of my next step but knowing I must move forward. Nearly everything has taken a backseat to the life event I mentioned two weeks ago. Coupled with life's other challenges, my focus has been on getting through and keeping my head above water—paddling as hard as possible to stay afloat. My amygdala has been running the show, and my prefrontal cortex has taken a back seat. This shift in focus has resulted in my not having lifted a book this week. Gabor Maté's The Myth of Normal remains unopened - its pages sticking together like all new books. That wonderful smell is just waiting to be enjoyed. Maté was awarded the Canadian Order of Merit and is renowned for his work on (amongst other things) the mind-body connection and the impact of society on mental health. I know it is a book I should be reading in general, but I think it would have been incredibly beneficial during these last few weeks. As I wrote the last few sentences, I had an image of a child shaking its head in defiance when a spoon of medicine comes its way - stubbornly refusing what will make things better. It's not that I was refusing the medicine, just that I didn't have the energy to take it.
So, there will be no thoughts on The Myth Of Normal this week. Still, this writing exercise is therapeutic in itself. It brings solace and inspiration, which I need in equal measure, and I hope to finish a book this week. For now, much like I did with Desiderata, I have drawn inspiration from a poem for this week's post. A single line from a thought-provoking poem.
The Awakening Poem
When my dad was on his deathbed, one of his nieces (my cousin) visited, and she brought him a printout of a poem called The Awakening. My dad adored his nieces, and they adored him. She wanted to inspire him to fight when so little fight was left. When I think about it, it was a very touching gesture on her part. We're not in touch anymore, but I hope she knows what an impact those few pages she left with him had on me. The poem was the last thing my dad read. It lay on his bedside table as his body was taken away from our home, and my sister Shereen read it at his funeral. While driving to a doctor's appointment a few days ago, ruminating on the past and catastrophising the future, the line I used as this posts' heading came to mind. While not my intended post for this week, The Awakening is worth mentioning.
I'm not sure what happened to the printout my cousin left behind, and there's conflicting information on the internet about who wrote it. Some websites credit it to a writer named Sonny Carroll, while others say it is credited to Judith Espinosa. The link I have included in the paragraph preceding this one lends credence to the work belonging to Espinosa, and it comes with a DMCA (Digital Millenium Copyright Act) notice that I will honour by not copying and pasting it here. The singular reference I make to the poem in the heading of this blog post is quoted directly from the link above, with all credit to the author. I encourage you to read the poem in its entirety.
The Present = Serenity
These past few weeks, I have been torturously obsessing about what has happened and what will happen. The North Star has not disappeared; I have just lost focus. What happened is out of my control, and I have no choice but to accept that. I need to let things unfold as they will and concentrate on the one thing I can control: my reaction. In my post on The Subtle Art of Not Giving A F*ck, I wrote that "there is liberty (or perhaps even serenity) in letting go". And there is. Author Mark Manson wrote that the subtle art of not giving a f*ck does not equate to not caring. We just have to be selective about what we care about and where we place our focus. I care very much about what happened, but I need to direct the energy into doing something constructive about it and not wallowing in rumination and catastrophising. This is often easier said than done, but I will keep trying.
And that's the full extent of this week's post. I'll sign off with a terrific quote from a Stoic.
“True happiness is to enjoy the present, without anxious dependence upon the future, not to amuse ourselves with either hopes or fears but to rest satisfied with what we have, which is sufficient, for he that is so wants nothing." (Seneca)
Coming Up Next Week
Take 2. Gabor Mate's The Myth of Normal has been on my bookshelf for months. I think it's time I delve deeper into his thoughts on trauma.
#anxiety #depression #mentalhealth #mentalhealthawareness #thereisnostigma #youarenotalone #thesubtleart #selfhelp #selfcare #mindfulness
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