Tag: mentalhealth

  • Understanding misunderstanding

    Understanding misunderstanding

    When we find that, despite our sincerest efforts, we continue to be misunderstood, consider that perhaps we need to focus on understanding instead.

    Understanding becomes difficult when we’re gripped with the desperation of needing others to understand how important something is to us.

    That desperation is often driven by fear, or self pity, rather than conviction. And it’s fed by a belief that they simply don’t realise how important it is.

    If we’re not careful, this is how we become the architects of our own misery, or the result of our own self-fulfilling prophecy.

    The greater our emotional investment, the more likely we are to contaminate that space with fear or self pity.

    Creating space for understanding is the most important thing you can do to avoid a potential lifetime of regret.

  • Silent Protest

    Silent Protest

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    A protest that cannot be articulated, is a protest spawned by futility, to feed futility.

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    My contempt for what I am presented with is rarely expressed plainly. My reservations to express at all is grounded in years of ridicule and dismissal around issues I have held with great conviction. Experience is a bitter pill, whether swallowed or not. Each cycle of decay results in a shortening of the fuse that prompts us into action. I believe that our response at break point is chosen long before we reach that point. It’s not something that happens instinctively. Instead, it has been internalised for so long that when we do reach that tipping point, no contemplation or deliberation is needed. The response is not intended to be measured. It is intended to finally release the silent protest that we chose not to express outwardly for reasons that suddenly fade from significance.

    Silent protests are born when our pleas for sanity or reason go unanswered in a setting that we feel compelled to embrace. It’s a cry for recognition of who we are and what we need that has fallen on inattentive ears, or calloused hearts, leaving us bound to the commitments we once made, while resisting the urge to respond in kind lest we be reduced to the same stature of that which we have grown to despise. But the contempt is not easily expressed. The contempt is reined in to ensure that the commitment remains the priority. After all, in the absence of the commitment, no such claim of aloofness would be credible.

    So the silent protest plays out, often for years, and assumes a sub-conscious frame of reference that we rarely realise exists. The weightiness sets in, the lethargy overwhelms, the fatigue smothers, and the passion withers. Life ceases to be life at this point. Instead, it steps aside to allow existence to take over. Existence, then, becomes the final protest. It protests the onset of death, denies the potential of life, and secretly yearns for both.

    Breathe. Exhale. Remind yourself why the silent protest started, if indeed you are able to remember, and decide if it is still worth the commitment you are trying to honour. If you can’t remember, then remind yourself about where your passion once flared, and use that as a point to return to in order to retrace your steps to the point where you lost your voice.

  • Ephemeral existence…

    Ephemeral existence…

    Life, more than anything else, is about perspective.

    In moments of struggle, we’re inclined to look back on the many times that we were weighed down in life.

    Sometimes we reminisce about the good times, but from a place of hopelessness believing that we may never experience it again.

    At such times, it feels like life is long and dreary.

    But when we connect with joys from the past, and hope to recreate even greater joys in future, the fleeting nature of life is impressed upon us.

    Our need to focus on the bad experiences is an attempt at protecting our fragile hearts from having to face such heartache or disappointment again.

    Focus on the joys, and suddenly we connect with our ability to smile in the face of trials, and to reconnect with joy even after the gravest disappointment.

    Breathe, beloved…our default state is joy, if only we’ll embrace it more than we hold onto the fear. A joyful life is always still possible as long as there is breath left in our lungs.












  • A bitter ache

    A bitter ache

    Just as beauty is born of love, so too is bitterness born of loss.

    I wonder what of the troubles of this world is caused by broken hearts, rather than wilful greed?

    It is the sense of loss, or inadequacy in the eyes of those most cherished, that our worst behaviour comes to the fore.

    But there is value even in that.

    If not for still holding on to hope, such an expression of rage or harm would not have any purpose.

    It is only when we still have hope of our pain being consequential that we choose to share our discontent with the world.

    Therefore, it is not the raging lunatic that is most hurt, but the silent one who has no hope of being seen.

    Sometimes their silence is the build up to the storm of destruction that they need to unleash in their final attempt to be heard.

    But often, it’s the abandonment of dreams that perhaps the world really needed.



  • It’s not always betrayal

    It’s not always betrayal

    Betrayal is not always a result of harsh words, lies, or cruel action.

    I’ve found that the deepest cuts were always from the silence when words were needed, the restrained sincerity when an embrace was called for, or inaction from those when I looked expectantly towards them while recalling the times they drew on my energy in the moments when I barely had enough to sustain my own spirit.

    And I often wonder how many may look at me and feel the same way.

    We’re often so focused on what we’re not getting from others, that we don’t pause to consider what they may not be getting from us either.

  • The impossible dream

    The impossible dream

    When home is elusive, the world feels ominous.

    A journey to a place you’ve never been holds the promise of peace, despite never having known what peace feels like.

    It’s a cry of the soul, in tones and words that no one seems to understand.

    But you keep crying, and you keep trying, because something deep inside convinces you that there must be more than this.

    If only it was possible to know why this never felt enough, it would be so much easier to figure out why home is still worth searching for.

    The impossible dream that is too important to abandon, but too wholesome to feel worthy of it.

    It truly is a long longing, for something we imagine would finally reach the deep, dark recesses of our being, and offer it the light it has been yearning since our first breath.

    Will the yearning remain even after our last breath?

    Or is hope for fools who dare to dream despite living a recurrent nightmare?

  • Don’t be a martyr

    Don’t be a martyr

    We act out of duty rather than conviction when the guilty martyr in us triumphs over our courage to be true to ourselves, and just to our souls.

    It is our focus on how we wish to be perceived, or how we need to meet expectations, that distracts us from our self-worth and conviction, and redirects us towards compliance aimed at earning inclusion.

    The problem is, when inclusion is claimed at such a price, we inevitably exclude peace and fulfilment from that effort.

    It is that exclusion of peace and fulfilment that leads us to believe that such sacrifices are noble in order to achieve salvation, or validation.

    What we lose sight of is that our unique contribution…our unique beauty that we are able to share with the world is also sacrificed in the process, leaving the world lacking in the very essence of what drives us towards such distractions.

    Choosing your own path does not mean exclusion. It means choosing your rules of engagement with the world around you.

    If everyone conforms to their assumptions of what is expected of them, rather than contributing what they believe to be sincere and true value, who will be the beacons of inspiration for the generations to come when the purpose of such conformance is lost in the rituals that it spawned?

  • Willingly obliged

    Willingly obliged

    This is most true for religious subscription and cultural heritage, but applies to every relationship in our life.

    Choice inspires willingness because a choice is driven by our belief in the benefit of our contribution towards others.

    Obligation inspires contempt because it is most often associated with the threat of a negative repercussion.

    What drives our choices and our sense of obligation therefore must be considered when we find ourselves growing angry at the thought of non-compliance from others, or the expectation of compliance from ourselves by others.

    It is quite possible to choose consciously to serve an obligation. But that choice must be done willingly and not under duress. Duress turns a choice into an unwilling obligation.

    Fear has a limited life span. Therefore, the moment we establish compliance with a lifestyle or behaviour through fear, we must prepare ourselves for the inevitable backlash.

    Live consciously. Love deliberately. And serve without obligation.

    Perhaps, beloved, in that lies the secret to experiencing peace in this lifetime.