In German the word is "ohrworm," and how appropriate for music by Carl Orff. We've been performing Carmina Burana all week for the Ballet, and I can't seem to get it out of my head during non-performing hours.
The other day I was in the bathroom at work, just one stall and one urinal. Enjoying a brief solitary moment without coworkers, I began humming whatever part was stuck in my head at the time. The humming turned into quiet singing as I washed my hands.
"Swaz hie gat umbe, daz sint allez megede..."
I grabbed a paper towel to dry my hands and looked over at the stall.
"Die wellent anman..."
To my horror, I saw two shoes at the toilet peaking out beneath the partition. I recognized the shoes as someone who works down the hall from our office.
I promptly stopped singing, threw the towel away and left the bathroom...smiling.
"Alle disen sumer gan!"
Saturday, March 31, 2007
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Full Circle...again
When I read past journal entries, I find recurrent themes that reach the monotonous equivalent of a scratched record or CD. I read things that I wrote 2 years ago and find I’m writing the same things, with sometimes the same words. Just when I thought I was making progress, I find I’m right back where I started, at least on an emotional level.
I was washing dishes, listening the Mormon Tabernacle Choir sing of peace, and I burst into tears. I was trying desperately not think of my existence, desperately trying not to compare myself with Cody and how much I fall short, not just in respect to him, but in life in general. My emotions are suspended like the belted riders of the Drop Zone waiting to fall. It’s in this brief pause before the plunge that a false sense of security tells me, “I think I can handle this. Everything’s going to be alright.” But it only takes a small puff to trigger the release and send me over the edge.
I’ve been thinking about two different ways of dealing with depression. One is addressing it head on - in thought, in writing, in talking, reading and studying about it, with the idea that by not ignoring it, I will find the vehicle that will release it from my system. Inevitably, talking about it means analyzing it and trying to reach some sort of clarity through the journey. There is something distinctly Buddhist about this approach - it’s trying to feel the pain so that you can leave it.
But I wonder if in talking about it, I don’t get trapped in it. Like falling prey to quicksand, wiggling just entangles the victim all the more. So if talking about depression only multiplies its existence, then the other option left is to not talk about. This approach could be seen as ignoring the issues and problems, but it also encompasses a shift in focus from depression and its sources to things that have a positive effect. It’s the “forget yourself and you will find yourself” approach.
It’s days like today at the kitchen sink, with soap suds in my hands, and tears in my eyes that make me think, “I haven’t moved past this at all. I’m just ignoring what’s internally destroying me. It will always come back to haunt me until it gets fixed.” So back to approach number 1. “There must be some key in past that is triggering these emotional responses in me. If I could just uncover what it is...”
Why do I feel like such a failure in every aspect of my life? Why do I feel so inadequate and incapable? Why do I feel so alone? Why do I feel so removed from life, as I watch others live their lives before me? Why can’t I connect with people? Why do I feel so empty and hollow? Why do I feel I have nothing to give? Why do I feel so needy? Why do I feel so behind in life? Why am I so consumed with these inward, self-absorbed thoughts? Why do I feel such a lack of interest toward life? Why am I so tired? Why do I feel like I’m falling apart, both emotionally and physically? Why do I feel so stupid? Why do I feel a sense of panic? Why do I feel so paralyzed?
How do I move past this?
I was washing dishes, listening the Mormon Tabernacle Choir sing of peace, and I burst into tears. I was trying desperately not think of my existence, desperately trying not to compare myself with Cody and how much I fall short, not just in respect to him, but in life in general. My emotions are suspended like the belted riders of the Drop Zone waiting to fall. It’s in this brief pause before the plunge that a false sense of security tells me, “I think I can handle this. Everything’s going to be alright.” But it only takes a small puff to trigger the release and send me over the edge.
I’ve been thinking about two different ways of dealing with depression. One is addressing it head on - in thought, in writing, in talking, reading and studying about it, with the idea that by not ignoring it, I will find the vehicle that will release it from my system. Inevitably, talking about it means analyzing it and trying to reach some sort of clarity through the journey. There is something distinctly Buddhist about this approach - it’s trying to feel the pain so that you can leave it.
But I wonder if in talking about it, I don’t get trapped in it. Like falling prey to quicksand, wiggling just entangles the victim all the more. So if talking about depression only multiplies its existence, then the other option left is to not talk about. This approach could be seen as ignoring the issues and problems, but it also encompasses a shift in focus from depression and its sources to things that have a positive effect. It’s the “forget yourself and you will find yourself” approach.
It’s days like today at the kitchen sink, with soap suds in my hands, and tears in my eyes that make me think, “I haven’t moved past this at all. I’m just ignoring what’s internally destroying me. It will always come back to haunt me until it gets fixed.” So back to approach number 1. “There must be some key in past that is triggering these emotional responses in me. If I could just uncover what it is...”
Why do I feel like such a failure in every aspect of my life? Why do I feel so inadequate and incapable? Why do I feel so alone? Why do I feel so removed from life, as I watch others live their lives before me? Why can’t I connect with people? Why do I feel so empty and hollow? Why do I feel I have nothing to give? Why do I feel so needy? Why do I feel so behind in life? Why am I so consumed with these inward, self-absorbed thoughts? Why do I feel such a lack of interest toward life? Why am I so tired? Why do I feel like I’m falling apart, both emotionally and physically? Why do I feel so stupid? Why do I feel a sense of panic? Why do I feel so paralyzed?
How do I move past this?
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