Battling Zen and Other Angsty Thoughts
I recently took down a Zen quote that said “You could be in a million other places, doing a million other things, but you are not there; you are here.”
Fuck you and fuck here, I want to say to the quote.
Giving myself permission to want something not present always leads me here; to discontent with now because I can’t do patient desire. My desires are loud, urgent, and consuming.
I stopped dreaming for a reason.
But you can’t create a life until you first decide you want it.
When people ask how I’m doing, I can only answer “surviving” or “I’m making it.” I can’t say I’m happy. Admitting to unhappiness as a depressive is a slippery slope. For starters, it puts me on the hook. I have to do something: change my mind or change my life. People want to help with questions and suggestions, both of which I’m horrible at processing. I’m forced to do extra work to sift through what is regular human discontent versus what are cognitive distortions, created by the Monster in My Head. Then, I’m so exhausted by detangling the mental clutter that nothing gets accomplished. I don’t move. I don’t change. I plop down wherever I am and look to the sky:
You’re gonna have to shift this around for me because I’ve got nothing, Chief.
That invitation typically throws my material world into upheaval. I used to fear it but now I’m wondering if Life throwing me into the deep end is the only way to get me moving. If there’s beauty in the breakdown. If I can only know newness after dramatic deaths of the old.
Is it worth it to lose a bit of myself for the purpose of becoming something better?
We shall see.