Yep. I’m exhausted. Ready to throw in the towel. Working so hard, feeling like I’m spinning my wheels. I’m teaching seven yoga classes a week and trying to find balance at home with my children and husband. Twice daily meditations, writing in my journal, this blog, my other blog, weekly therapy sessions, antidepressants, and still I am so low I wonder if I will ever see the light again.
I have reached out to countless people. I have prayed. I have tried and tried again to practice one-pointed attention. I don’t know what else to do.
Today I became angry and yelled at my daughter. I wasn’t in control of my anger; I yelled from an unconscious part of myself and then felt guilty afterwards.
A friend who moved to the mid-west told me that I shouldn’t blame myself for my biochemistry, that I need to be monitored by someone who can assess my needs better than my primary care doc can. She said that maybe I need a combination of medications. A combination? More meds? How did I get to this point?
This third month I said I’d be working on the third step, turning it over to God.
I turn this mood over to you. I turn my biochemistry over to you. I turn my life, my work, my marriage, my children–I turn it all over to you. I don’t know what else to do.
And I don’t know what else to write, because right now, my words don’t matter. This is pointless. Why put more effort into what I want to say? I don’t want to say anything, I just want rest, and a friend who’ll hold me and tell me that it won’t be like this forever.
Now I’m remembering to breathe. This moment, this breath. A little more space in my body, some space to exist, even if it’s painful right now, even if I’m feeling alone. This moment this breath.