This morning as I sat down here at my work table with my coffee and turned on my desktop computer fireplace app which I dearly love — I found it a couple of years ago, it pops and crackles and is so realistic it’s like having a real fire. I use it pretty much year round — I felt a kind of, well, let me see how I can put it, a sense of coming back to some kind of normalcy, or as close as I can get for now. The cleanup and repair work, the trees and limbs that need to come down, all of this will be ongoing work for some time, but, as when I talked about walking the dogs yesterday, there has been a kind of settling in to some kind of routine that works for now. I think that’s the thing, allowing that life is not just going to be settled into something that we can count on ongoing but that for now, for today, for this moment, all is well, as well as it can ever be.
And then as I say that what comes to me is the sense of unease that I live with most of the time that isn’t bad most days, but with which I don’t know how to live completely comfortably with. It’s like a river running underground that, if you walk through the woods, might burble up here and there but mostly stays underground. I am talking about this because it has become something that I am needing to be aware of, to track, and learn to manage. I used to take Xanax ongoing, all the time, which kept this underground river quiet for the most part. I haven’t done this for some time but, having recently, since the hurricane, taken Xanax a little more regularly to handle the flaring and almost, at times, uncontrollable anxiety what I also experienced was — goodness, this is all so difficult to describe — an awareness that taking it not only helped with the huge flaring anxiety but also quieted that underground river that seems so much of the time to be present, and it was such a relief. Though I have never overused or abused the drug I can surely see why some people do. It is a relief to rest in a kind of gentle quiet which, for someone like me, and there are so many of us in the world struggling with anxiety to varying degrees, does not come without medication. When anxiety is overwhelming and can impede functioning in life medication can be a godsend, but for those of us who have this low level anxiety much of the time it isn’t, to my way of thinking, the best option to medicate it into non-existence.
Still, I would be dishonest if I didn’t admit that sitting here, on an otherwise okay day, it is not tempting to think “If I just took that one little pill I would feel so much better…” but that would not really fix anything. For me, now, the work is to learn how to be at peace with feeling the underground river and knowing that I can manage it. At 64 I know that this is not going to magically disappear and that while taking the Xanax might quiet the river it is like hitting the mute button. You can’t hear it but the music is still playing, it is still having an effect, there is still something that needs dealing with. This is why I am in weekly therapy, why I write, why I have a number of self-care practices in place.
Too, while it is a relief to know that I do have the Xanax to use on an “as needed” basis when there is such acute anxiety I am about to go over the edge, when I am really suffering, just having it in the house to use “as needed” comes with a tremendous sense of responsibility, the knowledge that this drug can easily be overused and that the side effects can be dire especially as one grows older. Overuse can lead to dementia and Alzheimers. The studies have been sobering. You can’t be too careful, you must monitor yourself carefully, have regular check-ins with your provider where you discuss the use of the medication, and never get lax about taking that little pill just to feel a little better. What can I do instead? That is what I have to ask myself. And this is constant, ongoing work. This is living responsibly with medication. It is the same with having a glass of wine. I have never had a problem with alcohol and I am not a big drinker. A glass of wine is fine, but if, on a bad night, a second glass of wine sounds not just like it might be a pleasant thing to have but feels necessary, well, I have, at those times, more than once, dumped the whole rest of the bottle down the sink. I won’t overuse substances. I live alone, I am responsible for myself, I could fall, there are all manner of possible problems one can encounter. This is why learning to live with the underground river is such an important part of my work.
And then where does the line come, how does one understand the difference between simply being human, and alive, in this world and being in a state when one really does need the help and that little pill can be the difference between surviving what is happening or not? No one is without problems, without occasional sorrow or grief or simply feeling weighed down by the vagaries and vicissitudes of life. We can’t medicate ourselves out of what it is to be alive. Many try. It doesn’t work. The difficulty comes in when you have had a history of mental illness, real suffering, and the first sensation of the river running inside leads to a kind of terror that you will fall back into a terrible dark place. One wants to stop it before it gets out of hand. This is where daily practices come in. This blog helps me stay steady. Talking about these things, being honest about these things, keeps me aware of what is real and what is not, what is manageable and what is not. To the people, and there have been many, who have told me how remarkable it was that I did the last 365 day journey, that it was amazing, really quite an accomplishment, I say thank you, I appreciate what they are trying to say, but I have to say in response, it became, I realized, along the way, not something I had to struggle to keep up with but something without which I wouldn’t be as okay in the world. I have to do this. It is part of my ongoing work toward being well. It is a way to quiet the underground river. At least for awhile.
This, too, is “Infinite Compassion.” It is caring enough about yourself to do what you need to do to be okay even when it’s hard some days, or not convenient, or maybe you’d rather just watch Netflix. And taking care of myself is an act of compassion not only for myself but for my loved ones. If I don’t take care of myself, to the best of my ability, and something happens to me, they are the ones who have to pick up the pieces and that’s not fair. They would be happy to help me, they have helped me, but I deserve that help only when I really need it after first doing my own work to take care of me first. This is a lesson that took a long time to understand and I take it very seriously now. This is compassion-in-action. This is doing our work to spare others suffering. It is absolutely essential.
When I started writing this post the river was running fast, it was too loud in my ears, I was afraid. I wrote my way to a calmer place. I am better now. I am ever mindful that this will be the case. I will remain vigilant. I cannot stop.
Infinite Compassion: A 365 Day Journey~
Day 1 – Peeling The Layers Of The Heart…
“We must continue to open in the face of tremendous opposition.
No one is encouraging us to open and still we must
peel away the layers of the heart.”
Chogyam Trungpa, Rinpoche
yes writing as healing agent. i know this well. as do you. i call it “the wisdom of the pen.”
and knowing we are listening, caring, taking note, examining our own “underground river”, our own fears (will hurricane michael be devastating to life as i know it), doubts (will i really write MY LIFE AS A POET or am i kidding myself), means we are not alone, we are a community of selves, a community of seekers, who share our process and progress and relapse and re-emergence. It is deeply rewarding to be part of this community that you have built up through your 365 days and counting blog work.
so thank you, dear maitri
Oh Katya I am PRAYING that you are spared the kind of devastation and mess we had here, that Michael’s power will lessen or it will veer off another direction. That happened a year or so ago right? These hurricanes are so unpredictable, anything can happen. I will be so anxious to know that you have come through it and are okay.
And yes of course we all have our underground river. The thing is to learn to live with it and not fight against it as best you can. I always think of what they tell people at the beach when the rip currents come, that if you get caught in a rip current do NOT fight it, you will surely drown, you swim parallel to shore, you don’t try to swim in, until you get past the rip current and you can then swim in to safety. But people continue to die when they panic and try to swim to shore. Life is about learning how to manage the sometimes devastating currents, and for me from time to time medication will be necessary, but more often than not I am learning to work with it, to “swim parallel to shore.” That’s what I do here on this blog, the wisdom of the pen indeed.
I love you honey. Prepare for the storm as best you can and then be safe. Stay in touch. Let me know you are okay when you can after the storm passes through…
M. xoxox
Sometimes I wonder myself if some of the quirks I deal with (like my sometimes obsessive thinking for instance) would be relieved with medication. Though for the same reasons you mention, I’ve stayed away from it. I have somehow managed to mostly thrive amid my quirks and anxieties with a myriad of self care practices over the years. I think being alive comes with a full spectrum of feelings, emotions, thoughts, etc. Especially for those of us who are sensitive beings.
I admire your courage and awareness of self. I also admire how you’ve stuck to the writing daily! Keep going. You’re doing amazing and I love your writing! Love you much!
Thank you so much dear Bekah, I’m so happy to see you here and I appreciate your kind words so much. And you are amazing with all that you have handled without medication. I surely would have needed some help with much of what you have been through. We can perhaps talk soon about coping mechanisms with anxiety. And yes, this writing daily has become a godsend for me, it helps keep me steady on the hardest days. I wish you well and am sending you so much love…
“A river running underground!” I never thought of it this way but yes it is so true. I feel it too. Never quite feeling safe and at peace although there are peaceful days. I hear you Maitri, I feel what you wrote. I wonder how many have this unease running in the background of their lives. Probably many and they don’t realize it. Or anger or grief.
My doctor wanted to medicate me and I asked how would it make me feel? She said you wouldn’t feel much. Not feel much? That would almost make me like a robot. No thank you. So I have my xanax too when needed which is a big help. When I didn’t know what what was wrong with me I used to call it “my problem” and almost wished I was alcoholic because “they” would know how to help me. Then I learned it was Agoraphobia and there were many like me but in different degrees. It was comforting somehow knowing I was not alone.
I am glad you are writing and it helps you. It helps me too. Thank you for being you and being so wonderfully vulnerable.
I love your fireplace!!
Love, Jean
Thank you so much dear Jean and I am sorry that you suffer too but I am deeply grateful to have a friend who understands. And you know I was doing so much better, had begun teaching which I loved and doing other things and then the hurricane. And it didn’t just do all kinds of physical damage here but it shook me to my core and I have not been right since. I am so afraid so much of the time, I just can’t seem to feel safe, my agoraphobia got much worse. I will be teaching this Sunday night for the first time since the hurricane and I am so afraid. Nothing feels right to me, but I must begin. The longer I wait the harder it will be. Please hold me in your prayers and ask the angels to help me.
So much love and a warm hug to you Jean and yes, I have my “fireplace” going now. It is such a comfort.
Maitri