Silence, please.

I am finally (re)learning how to enjoy silence.

It has been a long time since I've been at this point.
I would say about 4+ years ago, I was fine with sitting in silence.  Immersing myself in it.  I enjoyed being at home without noise.  Driving for hours without music.  Just sitting and letting things...be.

I have observed (learned) that a lot of people fear silence.  For one reason or another, perhaps even multiple reasons.  I think the majority of people are terrified to be alone with their thoughts.  They let who they interact with, what they listen to or read, their jobs, all of those things determine who they are as individuals.  They let the outside world define them (and their social status), instead of allowing themselves to be introspective and figuring out who they are from themselves.

Being alone with your thoughts means facing who you are at the end of the day.  Who you are alone, with no one else around to decide who you are.  Which, if you are like most people in this desensitized and materialistic society, is a terrifying thing.  You surround yourself with people all day long, at the gym, at work, socializing after work, only to get home and fall into bed, exhausted, after a day of going, going, going.  But you rinse and repeat.  Because a measure of worth is your bragging rights of how many hours your worked this week, how small the amount of hours you slept are, and what your take home pay is.

It's not the qualities and quirks that make you, you.  Why on earth would immeasurable things like your integrity, your honesty, your ability to do what is right when no one is looking, be ways to measure your worth as a person?  No.  In a world where things that you can hold and touch and see and count have a clear measurement of worth, it is the things that you can measure (lack of sleep, hours spent at work) that make you "valuable."


But I digress.

I found myself becoming that kind of person a few years ago.  That I needed to go, go, go and be busy and active and, well, forget time to rest!  Then I remembered how important it was to actually take a step back, breathe, and rest.  For at least one day.  To help balance myself, to get away from the noise of the world and the busy-ness.  To reset.  I made it a priority - and sometimes I had to force myself to remember to do so - to take it easy and not rush around.  To go out and do things I enjoyed.  Hiking.  Being out in nature.  Writing.

But over the past four years or so, my head has become much less...friendly.  While I hate noise in general (and here I'm not just referring to sound, but traffic, too many people...things that overload my senses), I found myself unable to sit in silence like I used to.  In fact, I couldn't really let myself sit in silence at all, regardless of how much I needed it - especially to help my brain reset.


Here I am now, though.

Able to withstand silence again.  Not dreading it, not putting on music or netflix for noise to distract me from my head and the torment of my thoughts.  In fact, I would say I've gone the exact opposite way.  Now I love silence, and most of the time, the thought of turning on the tv (as much as I may want to binge-watch The Office over and over again) makes me cringe.

My head is still my enemy from time to time (more often than not, actually), but it has become tolerable.  I am able to think, to ponder, to reflect...just as I used to.  Not in the same way, or on the same subjects, but generally speaking, silence has once again become golden.

It's strange, I have to admit.  Realising that I am okay with silence and embracing it.  Partially because it has been so long since I've been at this point.  But also partially because the noise and distraction of music or the tv also help keep me awake - especially when it's mid-day and I need to continue to stay up until a reasonable bedtime hour approaches.  Ha.


With My Heart being gone, I think this has also emphasized the need for silence.  I am often thinking of him, recalling memories of happy times together, thinking of new things to write him about.  I'm not sure this will continue whenever we're reunited again.  (Partially because he likes to have background noise on.)  But perhaps a balance can be found.

Silence is good.
It's peaceful.
It gives time to reflect and think and even learn from past mishaps, however small they may be.


It's good to be reunited with an old friend.

Non-Depressed People Are Not Depressed

You know what's wrong with people who aren't depressed?
They aren't depressed.

What a mind-blowing statement, right?
Give me a minute, I have my reasons for posing that question.

In the past week or so, I've been thinking a lot about depression.  As one does, when they struggle with it.  Because it's there, all the time.  It's your constant companion.  It lies to you, telling you that you just lack motivation, or that you're lazy, that you lack value as an individual.  That how you feel, that sluggishness, that constant fog in your head, isn't depression...it's just you.

To quote something I read on the internet:
"[Depression] is like fighting a war where the enemy's strategy is to convince you that the war isn't actually happening."

For.  Fucking.  Real.

And I suppose the sentiment behind my opening question isn't just something that can be applied to depression alone, but to anything out there that one person has dealt with or experienced, and someone else has not.
Because I can talk to my family until I'm blue in the face about being depressed.  About how it sucks motivation out of everything.  How waking up is a struggle in and of itself.  On how it makes me suck at my job, or feel like I'm less than a whole person because my brain chemicals are so fucked up.  But as much as I talk, they will never understand.
Do you know why?
Because none of them have ever been depressed.

And sure, while some try to practise empathy (and usually fail at it), others are just of the mindset of "get over it!"  Or "motivate yourself anyway!"  Or "stop using it as a crutch!"  Or my late favourite "don't have kids until you're clear of depression!"

What the actual fuck.

I have come to an epiphany in the past few days of why I share so little of my personal life with most of my family members...but that's for another time.  Though their closed-mindedness, lack of empathy, and lack of trying to understand as much as they possibly can without having experienced depression themselves, definitely adds to why I don't share much.

In the past year or so, I have come to understand that I know nothing about the vast expanse of how incredible grace really is, and how much it covers.
And while grace was discussed and even taught about at church growing up, in thinking about my childhood, the way in which I was raised, even certain beliefs, ideals, and attitudes some of my family members have, I have come to see that grace isn't always freely given (by people, that is).  It is a prettily packaged concept that sounds good when being talked about, but is poorly practised.  And I myself have been extremely guilty of that...though I am trying to get better at giving grace to others.

And the fact that we live in a fallen world where death and disease and evil exist.  If someone can have the flu, and that is a clear sign of an effect the fall of Adam had, why can't mental illness - depression - be a sign as well?  Because that is just as real as cancer.
And life itself is very complex and hard to understand at times.  So yes, while Christ is our healer, that does not mean that healing is guaranteed every time you pray for it.  Do I believe that God can heal anything?  Most definitely!  Do I believe that God can heal every time?  Of course!  But will God heal everything, every time is a different question...and one I don't have an answer to.  I don't think anyone has an answer to that, to be honest.

It is incredibly...frustrating.  Degrading.  Hurtful...to have people in my life who love me, but who cannot understand that depression is something that I have to learn to live with.  Because that is my reality, and there is absolutely no cure.  No way to change it.

I did not choose to live with this demon.
I did not choose for my brain to be so hyperactive and to be in constant torture and torment at every waking hour because my brain does not stop, but it is also doused in a heavy fog, where simple words are easily forgotten, where I am mentally and physically exhausted all the time, and my energy supply drains simply by existing.
And yet, people think that if I motivate myself enough, it'll be enough of a distraction to forget I'm sad all the time.  Or that, magically, if I pray hard enough or some shit like that, depression will disappear forever!  Rather than acknowledging that mental illness is as much of a result of the fall as any physical ailment is, and just like death, you cannot defeat depression.

I hate my life.
I hate that every day I'm not only tired when I wake up, but I'm wiped. out. at the end of the day, because I'm constantly fighting.  Fighting my thoughts from racing all the time, fighting brain fog to try to think clearly enough to do normal things, fighting sadness and struggling to not give in.
I don't want my life to be this way.
If I could, I would sell my soul to not be sad all the time.
But I can't.
And that's my reality.
That is my life.
A constant struggle, a never-ending battle of a war that feels like it's not happening.

And some days, it just feels like it would be best, easiest, it would save me so much grief and heartache, if I just gave in and put a stop to the battle.
Surrender.
End it for good.

But, (as I think) unfortunately, it is my nature to fight.
And so I continue to do so.
Day after day.
Wearing myself down.
But somehow still finding fight left within me.

It is so very much a struggle.
A struggle in which I am alone.
It has always been that way; and it always will.

And so it goes.

It's terrifying.
Being alone with your thoughts.

I don't scare easily, but it's at times like these when the sadness engulfs me and I am too weak to fight, that being alone with my thoughts and emotions (whatever those are) terrifies me.

In this new season of life, there is a lot to process.  To learn.  To change.  To reflect.  To feel.

It is a new year; that alone is usually cause for reflection.
But I am also about alone as I have ever been in my life up to this given point in time.

The one who holds my heart is gone for the next [at least] 14 weeks.
I am apart from him after spending every day and every spare moment for the past year and a half with him.
Talk about shock.

I used to be confident in who I was.
I knew who I was and I knew the One to whom I belonged.

And then life shifted, and everything became a question.
No answers, no light, just me stumbling around like an idiot, feeling like I was drowning, and like I would live the rest of my life like that.

"In times of adversity and change, we really discover who we are and what we're made of."
            - Howard Schultz

I went crazy (so to speak).
I started going on adventures of my own, taking risks (ME, of all people, taking risks), essentially just living my life as one big "fuck you" to God and anyone else around me.
Partially because I felt out of control.  I was tired of not having answers - much less help - and I needed to do things that made me feel alive.
But also partially because I had met someone that I found myself in love with, and wanted to be a better version of me because of them.  To do things that scared me that would cause me to grow, to step outside of my comfort zone, and yeah, for bragging rights.  Because why not, right?

But in going crazy and taking risks and making some pretty dumb decisions, I also lost complete sight of who I was.
I became a stranger to myself, and even now, I'm struggling to figure out - once again - who I am.

Which has not been easy.

Try completely not recognising yourself, moving away from your hometown for the first time ever, struggling with near-crippling depression, going on to working two jobs, meeting someone, having to find a place to live in only two weeks, going from living with family nearby to having essentially no one, needing to prove to yourself you can make it on your own, and then getting into a relationship and trying to learn how to co-function with another being all while trying to remember who you once were.


No one enjoys being left alone with a stranger.

And so here I am.
Two years later.
And I still have no fucking clue as to who I am.

Perhaps the biggest hindrance (while being the biggest help in other ways) was spending time with My Heart.  Always being with him meant no alone time (unless you count driving in your car alone to and from work or to and from home as alone time...and that definitely does not count), which meant no mental processing, no decompressing from the general busy-ness of life, no remembering - much less maintaining - who I am as an individual.

I never wanted to be that person who was so wrapped up in a relationship that I lost sight of and forgot who I was as an individual.
Because while, yes, you two are a unit and you need to learn to function together, at the end of the day, you are still you.  You are left with only you when you are alone.  And if you don't know who you are, if you aren't confident in your identity, if you lose sight of being you as an individual...it just adds up to a really complex equation that feels impossible to solve.

And that is where I am right now.

But oh, it's so much more complicated than just trying to rediscover who I am.

Because while I became a stranger to myself, in that chunk of time of adventures and risks, I was also in survival mode.
I had to be.
I mentally steeled myself to survive.  I shut down (even more) what emotions I may have felt.  I fought to be hard and not have a soft heart.  I had goals to accomplish, days to get through, and that's what drove me.  Focusing from one task to the next, always staying busy, never allowing myself to be alone, to process, to just...be.
I had to do that to fight the sadness, to fight the darkness that was a constant, looming threat of swallowing me whole, in order to barely make it from one day to the next.

So even now, when I'm alone, my default mode is survival mode.
Which never ends up going well when I'm back with My Heart.
Because survival mode Aimee, is single Aimee, which means it's her against the whole world.


This is going to be a lot of work.

Trying to remember who I am.
Trying to be in survival mode, but not as single Aimee, rather as committed-for-life Aimee...which I don't know what that combination looks like.
Trying to learn and grow and change (all for the better) while he's gone, so I can be the best version of myself for him.  To support him, to love him, to communicate clearly, to tag-team life together.
Trying to understand my past and where all my hangups are and how to heal from past wounds; and also how to currently live with who I am now because of what happened in my childhood.
Also just generally fighting the sadness of being so far away from My Heart, of trying to stay busy enough to be distracted, but also have enough time to think and process and do whatever else I need to do.


It feels daunting.
All that I need to do in the next few months.
("Need" meaning tasks I have taken upon myself to accomplish, not as in necessary for survival...although I suppose it could be taken like that as well.)
Couple all of that with generally feeling tired all the time and extra sad and it just gets really messy and feels extremely overwhelming and the general mood is to just want to shut down, shut the world out, not go to work or deal with responsibilities, and maybe just eventually die so as to not have to feel this way anymore.

I know when I see him again, it will feel as if the weeks and months just flew by.
But right now it's dragging about as much as my spirit is.
Which is all the time, all day.

Regardless.

I will probably do what I always do.
Pick myself up by my bootstraps, ignore how I feel, and figure it the fuck out.

Because I know that as much as I want to give up or give in, deep down - who I am at my core - I won't allow myself to give up.
I fight - blindly at times - because I have to.
Because it's who I am.
I fight even when I want to give up, even when it feels like I have no fight left in me, because to me, there is always hope.
Even when I can't see it.
Even when I can't feel it.

And the hope that things will get better, that the light will shine again, that maybe one day I'll stop feeling tired all the time, that I'll remember who I am, that I'll be reunited with My Heart...that is the hope that is worth fighting for.


(And so the battle begins.)