Have you ever weighed the presence and significance of numbers and how much impact they have on your life? We’re constantly surrounded by them, all used to measure something in our life somehow, and they can really add up to one’s feelings of self-worth. Do I measure up?
The numbers on the scale… the numbers of dollars in your bank accounts… the number of bills you have…the number of debts you owe… the numbers that were used to rank your work performance… countdowns to vacation… High or low, the numbers can make you feel on top of the world or like a walking panic attack waiting to happen, or both depending on what which number you’re talking or thinking about and what it means to your life.
So many numbers driving my bus right now. Not a detour, but certainly a sharp curve forcing a slow-down. The outside numbers I’ve totaled up to or down to are controlling the inside self which knows I need to climb out of a hole, but I am paralyzed to move in the right direction. In the mean time, big dreams are being dreamt, serious goals on the table–all without the motivation and drive needed to execute them.
Do I dare say with hope that I’m on the cusp of a manic mountain? I feel it… coming out (?) of a particularly low time for several weeks now, it would not be surprising with the level of (wonderful) change and stress that’s been my life these last months. Taking in the changes in a really bad mind set, I don’t feel like I can defeat (or catch up from) the damage I’ve done in the low without a manic episode to yank me out. Look, I know, I know that it is not healthy to wish for a manic eipisode-I do not take that lightly at all – but in some ways I’m right now like a junkie looking for my next fix and that fix is me in manic. In manic I feel “good enough” and I plow through to the “superstar plane”…
Balance is best, always! Ideally I’d stay at leveled all day every day. But that is not my reality. I’m controlled and leveled 85%, but the crashes hurt me more than anything – I self sabbatoge like you wouldn’t believe. Major life events, good or bad, sink me into the river of depression-My coping mechanisms go right out the window and I do some pretty crappy things to myself that have long-term consequences.
I need the numbers to get back on track. They are measurements that breathe of my self worth in a lot of ways. And for that I need manic to get my mojo back. Not yet desperate enough to mess with my meds, but a conscience effort every night fighting myself to do so.
As soon as I walked into church yesterday I burst out sobbing, I knew I didn’t want to go. Only the music was playing for heavens sakes! I feel this enormous weight of my inactions and I feel like, well, how unworthy I am to ask God’s help to save me from myself once again. How many times can you screw up and be saved by His hand, just to go and do it again? He’ll punish me instead, I’m sure of it. Faith. Grace. Repentance. Works. Obedience. Surely I am so bad He won’t listen to my pleas anymore… I know that’s not how it works, but tell my angst-ridden soul that. I am too ashamed to even pray right now. Look, it isn’t that bad, but it feels that bad in my head.
I need this vacation and the water to give me that peace to reflect and reconnect with myself and my family. 19 days…there’s my focused number.
Bear with me just a little longer and thanks for listening.