Blue Monday

The world is a cold place. The world is a hard place. The world is a dingy dirty place. Grey. Unsexy. And lately, it has also been raining endlessly, robbing us of our right to fresh air and warm sun. We talk of Blue Monday. But let’s not kid ourselves: it is Blue Winter all around this year. And ever since it hit it, I have been nagged by the inevitable: how will I make due? And more importantly: am I the only one this affected?

Now I am done reading Elaine Aron’s life-changing book The Highly Sensitive Person, I am finally understanding why my spiritual/emotional journey is at once so unavoidable and so draining. As she explains, there are different factors to why HSPs are prone to anxiety and depression, and why introspection can be twice as hard on them. While it has a lot to do with the environment they grew up in, it has just as much to do with the one they are forcing themselves into. Put simply, for us misplaced HSPs, finding a way out falls nothing short of a battle between life and death.

And that is hard enough when you know where you are headed. But what if you do not. What if you just do not see any right fit out there for you? Like no matter how big the world and how much you are capable of, you were somehow always left on the curb. Like, instead of walking your head held high, steadily and securely, you were running around in circles all day, a headless chicken, body and mind severed.

I can just picture it… laying there in front of me – motionless… my head… stuck in an empty and practical world full of nothing that makes sense. Others seem passionate and intensely decided about the things they eat, buy, make and do. While I, well, I basically do my best not to overshare with them my estrangement and panic. Do not get me wrong, I buy the fancy clothes; but it is like they are never enough. And I do the work; but since it is all ego to me, I fail to understand the fuss. And I pursue the hobbies such as drawing; but since it will never reach anyone, what is the use? And I check the FaceBooks, open the magazines, read the papers, but it is really just to kill time. That is usually the pivotal moment when the hollowness of it all gives way to anguish.

And then far away on the other end of the courtyard, lies my body… poor, freaked out and tired body. My body is essential to my search for peace of mind. But it is also through my body that I feel. And being made the way I am, there is often a bit too much of that going on. And not only that: my body also has the nasty habit of storing too much. To be fair, I can hardly blame it. Because were my head less disconnected or less caught up in playing pretend, it would be more available for my body and would not leave it out there like that, to hang.

But how can I give my body the necessary attention and presence: really listen, care, understand, love? How can I not fail it when every step I take towards it, from meditating, yoga, constellations, massages, books or movies brings new information to my consciousness, of a kind that usually freaks me – and by extension it – out? Add to that the fact that the mere experience of visions, voiced intuitions and the nature of their content, stands in complete contradiction with the world outside, the world my head is caught in – the one that communicates only on the surface of things in noise – and you have yourself a delightful cocktail of anxiety, tension and headaches. Nothing reassuring, trust me.

So sometimes, I wonder whether instead of trying so hard, I should not simply consider my life to be a spell of bad weather: something I just have to suffer through. I figure that if a fun accomplished life in the material world does not seem to be in my genes, and neither does a spiritual life that brings me peace and security, why not settle for the in-between? After all, they have invented plenty of solutions to cope with that. Aaron for one proposes prescription drugs, like Prozac or Zanex. And I kind of feel like in our stressed-out economy, everyone has at least at some point thought of taking something, right? So why should not I? But, of course, there are the side-effects and the dependency. And I have never been too good with side-effects. So maybe that is not the solution for me after all…

What if the real trick does not have to be so drastic? Maybe I simply have to accept the anxiety and let go of ever getting rid of it. Granted: that sounds a lot like settling. But it does not have to be. What if the small victories and the superficial pleasures did have a purpose of their own? What if they were even necessary: a respite, a resource, a source of light and lightness, without which the body cannot carry on and therefore cannot serve the soul? In other words, what if making the space between the rock and the hard place as comfortable as possible – by letting go of the doubt, the fear, the guilt, the thousand questions – were a prerequisite to reaching alignment? Would not we then owe it to ourselves, and to life, to make sure we are enjoying the ride?

And so, I leave you with this:

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