Movement over time.

Image by cwote.

So yesterday I had a session with Ranjana. It had been a few weeks since we'd seen one another, and the conversation flowed well, I've been in a good space lately, and she said it showed. We talked about what may have contributed to that better space.

Things are better. They're better then they were last year. And they're worlds better than in my early 20's. That's not nothing.

I know I have a lot of work to do on certain sore points for me, mainly my body and my nomantic/social life, but I feel better about my ability to address those things. That's new for me.

*one hour later*

Unexpected break-time! My friend V showed up down-town and we went for a coffee and a cigarette! Fun times!

I'm all cigarette-and-coffee-high! Yahoooooooooooooooooooooo!

It's a nice day today, so it was nice to get some sun and some not-fresh air.

He and I have been talking a lot about salary these days. Basically, with the election of the new Liberal government here in Canada, there will be tax breaks for the middle class, but the middle class starts at the $44,000 salary point. I'd say the majority of my friends make under that. We're all struggling to make ends meet. It's not great. He's in a position to re-negotiate his salary, and he's not looking forward to it. Instead, he might leave for Toronto, where salaries are better, and where his girlfriend already has a high-paying job.

This is the second friend this week who is considering leaving the province, E is thinking of going to Halifax to live by the coast, and get away from the city. And that's on top of J who is thinking of Toronto because she and her partner have better job opportunities there (as two anglophones in the music industry).  And of course, my buddy C already left for Victoria, and she's bought a house there, so she's rooting.

I'm not excited about my job prospects, or my finances. I'm not looking to have a ridiculous salary. I understand I chose something related to the arts and that certain types of creativity are not valued. I'm also not that kind of talented that blows peoples minds. I'm also not "good at business,"or monetizing myself or my work.

Source.

I would, however, like to live above the poverty line. I don't think that's a ridiculous desire for someone who is hard-working and competent. I would like to be able to live off of a full-time job. At this point in time I'm living paycheck to paycheck, and saving is excruciating. I could absolutely live on an extremely tight budget and save more, but I want to be able to live my life.

Now that I'm trying to take better care of myself, that incurs additional costs. Therapy, even if it's sliding-scale, costs money. A vitamin regimen costs money. Healthier food costs both time and money in meal-prep and ingredients. Skincare. Aesthetics. Clothing for work. Books (much to do with mental health and self-care). Money.

If socializing is a large part of combating depressive tendencies - generally that also incurs costs. Granted, most of my friends are as broke-ass as me, so we're pretty frigan good, but going out and engaging the world often costs money.

Maybe seeing Star Wars: The Force Awakens will help my mood. And getting advanced tickets in VIP seating at the 18+ theater costs many peanuts. LET ME LIVE.

This has been a bit of a weird post. All of this beginning with my writing about Ranjana's remarking a difference in my body language and attitude.

I hope it all isn't temporary. A weird hole in the clouds. I hope to continue moving forward with my recovery and self-care.

It's just weird how "dealing with" my mental health situation also goes along with "dealing with" other aspects of my life. Nothing goes on hold. I still worry about finances and job security when I'm depressed, it's just diluted. I'm feeling better these days, so I'm thinking of it more actively, this financial situation I'm in. I just see things differently when my brain is unclogged and my vision isn't blurry. It's like removing a pair of dark shades.

So yah, these problems were there before, these money problems, they were just further down my list of priorities, under not killing myself and getting through the day.

I see everything with a greater sense of clarity, yes, but I'm also less irritated. I have more energy. Not in a let's skip to the bakery kind of way. More in a, wow, I can listen to you talk and not want to kill myself, kind of way. That's major. Since I have to interact with humans to live my life.

So yes, maybe I am doing better. I hope, deeply, and with a morose gripping in my chest, that that continues to be the case. I could stand to have good days like this. It's so very nice. And yes, maybe part of me is mournful that these days have been so rare, and I'm envious, and in awe, that there are those who lives lifetimes of good days, but that part of me is microscopic. Overall, what I feel is gratitude for the lighter feeling, and elation that the darker parts of my life are not as permanent as they often feel.

To good days. 

Patience for growth.

Source is Callum Green. 

It's ok to grow.

Source.

Am I the fly?

So, Tuesday of this week, two days ago, I had my third session with Ranjana. It was, intense. Both of us were on point. I was open and really able to verbalize a lot of stuff, and she has a point of view and approach that is very different from what I've experienced in the past, so it allows me to be directed and questioned in ways I haven’t experienced before.

We talked a lot about shame, and guilt, and how you can be traumatized by something you want to let go of. How people are associated to these events, and you then become haunted by people that become ghosts. These ghosts, the people behind them are irrelevant, it’s the trauma of the experience that imprints on you.

I guess that’s where I'm at now. I'm trying to understand, and grow away from these imprints. I think that became clear in my session.

I got home, drained. It was raining, and I opened my patio door to let some fresh air in. My attention was drawn to a fly who kept hitting the glass pane of the sliding-door. He just doesn’t see the glass. He sees the world, he sees outside. He sees where he wants to go and just can’t comprehend this blockage - this interruption. Can he comprehend the window? Is it outside of his frame of reference?

I stared at the little fly, and became lost in thought. It’s as if I was pulled out into the sky, receding back into the universe, while asking myself if the fly and I are that different. My glass barrier is probably all internal. Maybe it’s my ego. Maybe I am completely unable of picturing it. Maybe it is beyond my comprehension.

So the fly and I were one in that nanosecond. I opened the door and let him out.

There was a melancholy in watching him fly away, because he got out, and I didn't.