I ran out of ink, Pen Pot Blog,
which is why I’ve not posted in forever. Ink is hard to refill when you’re
swimming for your life through the thrashing oceans of depression and anxiety.
(Once, I was really, really good at
actual, physical swimming– I had all those patches-presented-as-badges and the bronze,
silver and gold proficiency certificates. Shame primary school had to end,
eh?!)
Swimming is kind of a habit, I guess
– and someone once told me that you can form a new habit in 28 days. 28 consecutive
days of conscious thought and effort results in an automatic-habit. Let’s try
it, then.
Habit I Want to Form =
Recognising and expressing my thoughts and feelings (you know, the deep, difficult, private ones, not the I-take-tea-with-milk-and-two-sugars kind. I do, though, so let me know when you’ve got the kettle on). I want to form the habit of getting these thoughts OUT, so I’m not alone and pushed down with them ALL. THE. TIME.
How Can the Pen Pot Blog Help?
By being somewhere I can share them, pick at them, try to figure them out. By being the place and motivation to create and share 28 consecutive posts of change, just like days in real life.
Maybe no one will read us, Pen Pot;
maybe some will. Maybe we’ll have just one actual reader. But these kinds of numbers
don’t have value here: it’s the habit of opening up and putting My Self out
there, as much as exorcising my thoughts, that I’m trying to form.
Today's Thoughts
So. Day 1. I’ve noticed the blue sky and thought about how its blueness communicates change; is a vehicle for it: clouds move across it, but the sky and its blueness remains. Endures. Is appreciated, and loved. And will be seen again, once those clouds have buggered off. Just like me and my depression.
So. Day 1. I’ve noticed the blue sky and thought about how its blueness communicates change; is a vehicle for it: clouds move across it, but the sky and its blueness remains. Endures. Is appreciated, and loved. And will be seen again, once those clouds have buggered off. Just like me and my depression.
(I was writing a sentence, just
then, questioning if this thought-approach is what they mean when they say ‘be
mindful’, because I always want to yell, ‘But what am I supposed to do to be mindful?!’ – and then a
phrase announced itself in my mind, all authoritative and authentic-like: ‘You
don’t do, you be.’ So… I don’t need to do anything about the sky being
blue – I don’t have to remark on it, take a photo of it, research the science
behind how we see colour and/or how weather forms. I just need to know and
accept that I’ve seen the sky is blue, and that – to me – it’s kinder and friendlier
being blue than grey; that I’m alive today to see it, and that’s enough. God,
this mindfulness thing still seems bonkers!)
(Any tips on how to improve my
attempts at being mindful?! Answers on a postcard, please – or in the comment
box below!)
I’ll be back tomorrow, Day 2, for
another thought and exploration – want to join me in this habit?!
~ ttfn ~
My comfort is to gaze up at the blue sky and the dark evening sky and can envisage it being never ending. It's the only constant in the entire universe and it's mine whilst I'm looking. I fond that endlessness very reassuring.
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