Tag: imbalance

Emotionally Imbalanced? How Qigong Can Help You Heal Your Mind and Body
“In order to move on, you must understand why you felt what you did and why you no longer need to feel it.” ~Mitch Albom

The marble tile felt cold and hard against the side of my body as I lay sobbing and shaking on the floor. Some part of my mind nudged me to get to the couch, but I couldn’t. What did it matter?

Tears kept flowing as my moans of “Why? Why? Why?” echoed through the room. Despite the discomfort, I curled into a tighter fetal position on the floor, continuing to sob and whimper. Every once in a while, I would cough and gag, a familiar side effect of crying so hard.

After ten minutes, I had the clarity and energy to get up. I wiped my tears, blew my nose, and took several deep breaths, each one shaky and ragged.

This moment mirrored dozens of other similar moments over the past two years. The severity had lessened, perhaps due to therapy or simply the passing of time. However, I never knew the deep sorrow would hit again and bring me down, literally.

Most people experience this type of loss at some point. Mine resulted from a dearly loved and close family member telling me they never wanted to talk to me again and wanted me out of their life, in words much harsher and more hurtful.

Deeply rooted feelings of insecurity from a childhood filled with physical and emotional abuse rose to the surface (that’s a story for another time), compounding my feelings of wretchedness, unworthiness, and loss.

As I mentioned above, time and an incredible estrangement therapist had begun to heal some of the pain. I gravitated to therapy because I have my master’s and part of my PhD in Psychology. My clients found relief and recovery with me through cognitive behavioral, narrative, and art therapy methods. I did feel better talking with my skilled and experienced therapist.

However, I continually felt unstable. Imagine having to walk on a balance beam all the time. You get used to it and feel more competent, but you never have the same stability as walking on solid ground. I knew I had to get my emotions on firm footing.

I had used Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM) as my primary healthcare model for eight years. I know the acupuncture and herbs eased some of the extreme sadness. However, after this bout of waterworks and wailing, I realized I needed to learn more about what TCM says about the emotions. So I began to research, and my life changed forever.

According to TCM, imbalanced emotions cause disease and mental health problems. Each organ relates to a pair of emotions, and when they are healthy you let go of the imbalanced emotions and retain a balanced state.
- Lungs: Imbalanced = loss, grief, and sorrow; Balanced = dignity, integrity, and courage
- Kidneys: Imbalanced = fear, loneliness; Balanced = self-confidence and inner strength
- Liver: Imbalanced = anger, frustration, impatience; Balanced = kindness and compassion
- Heart: Imbalanced = nervousness, excessive joy, and anxiety; Balanced = joy, contentment, and tranquility
- Spleen: Imbalanced = overthinking, obsessiveness, and worry; Balanced = trust and openness
I felt a significant shift in how I viewed emotions. Clarity arose about how my state of mind harmed or healed my body and vice versa.

The good news from my research was that people can skillfully balance their feelings.

One of the most powerful tools to do so is qigong.

Two Chinese characters comprise qigong: qi 气and gong 功. You can roughly translate qi to mean energy or life force. It’s more complicated than that, but that imagery works for this discussion. Gong means work or skill. Therefore, qigong means developing skill in working with energy.

Qigong originated from primitive people’s efforts to nurture their health. In fact, in 1957, when archaeologists excavated graves from over 5,000 years ago, they found a colored ceramic basin painted with a figure doing various qigong movements.

Qigong in ancient China was also called tuna (adjustment of breathing), daoyin (moving the body and breathing), zuochan (sitting in meditation), or neigong (internal exercise). These translations emphasize the importance of breathing and using the mind when doing qigong exercises.

A nice description of qigong for today is the skill of physical and mental training that weaves together the functions of the body, breathing, and the mind. When you integrate these three elements, you adjust the yin and yang balance in your body to prevent and reverse physical and mental disease.

The key to remember is that, just as with any other skill, you need to practice.

Living in Shanghai, China at the time of my exploration, I joined qigong classes at the parks near my home. At the time I wasn’t immersed in the theory, just the movements. This level of practice brought a sense of relief. I didn’t feel on the verge of falling off the balance beam at any given moment.

Nevertheless, the shaky foundation persisted. So, I dove deeper into medical qigong theory and completed my qigong teacher certification to broaden my insights. During these studies, the healing power of sounds, colors, finger mudras, and walking patterns emerged as tools for balancing the emotions.

For example, as you read above, my sorrow and sadness related to my lungs. The lungs tie to the metal element, the season of fall, the color white, and the emotional healing sound “ssss.” The annual respiratory illnesses each autumn, the anniversary of the estrangement, finally made sense.

Another medical qigong concept I found affirmed that the initial willingness to cry served a purpose.

To illustrate, my study of qigong taught me that feeling and expressing emotions helps clear stagnant energy so the body can rebalance. For instance, there is an expression of long-term physical ailments being caused by “unshed tears.” Puffiness under the eyes is one symptom of this sub-health condition. Crying as needed serves as an important role in healing, and I had definitely done plenty of crying.

Having said that, lingering in this state slows recovery. Qigong exercises help focus the mind and release the imbalanced aspects of emotions from the body. Through qigong, the stagnant energy returns to the earth for recycling, and you live in a balanced state.

Perhaps the most efficacious tool for qigong practice is nature.

Qigong practitioners learn how to gather qi from plants, water, soil, sand, canyons, mountains, oceans, rivers, etc., as well as how to use this qi for regeneration and repair. You might have seen the plethora of new “forest bathing” books in bookstores. This healing modality stems from the same ancient roots as qigong and demonstrates the effectiveness of nature to heal.

You focus on the present moment, fully immersed in the sensations surrounding you and your breath.

As I’ve practiced and applied the curative tools of qigong, my literal and figurate feet are planted on the ground. Instead of balancing precariously on a thin beam of wood, I experience the ebbs and flows of life like a tree. My roots run deep into the earth creating a solid foundation, and my trunk serves as a stable core. From this position of solidity, my branches and leaves blow with the wind, experiencing the world. The tree remains stable and strong yet lives and enjoys life.

Whether extreme happiness (the birth of my grandson) or broken heartedness (my continued estrangement) come my way, I use the tools and mindset of qigong to rebalance. I learn the lessons each emotion teaches me and come back to center, rooted in nature and the present moment.

I no longer crumple to the floor. Now, when the subtle energy shifts that occur when thinking of my estrangement surface, they nudge me instead of assailing me.

The greatest gift from this experience is the opportunity to teach others about qigong for emotional healing.

Your body wants to partner with you to heal and balance your emotions. Whether with me or other skilled qigong practitioners, you now have another tool to add to your toolbox of emotional well-being.
September 22, 2022
Was I An Overachiever or Really Just Trying to Prove My Worth?

“I spend an insane amount of time wondering if I’m doing it right. At some point I just remind myself that I’m doing my best. That is enough.” ~Myleik Teele

Just one more client. Just one more call. Just one more. Repeat, repeat, repeat.

Then, maybe, just maybe, I will feel validated. Worthy. Appreciated.

That’s how success works, right? Everyone has to like you, think you’re amazing, and recognize all of your hard work for you to be successful? I learned the hard way that this is the path to overwhelm, burnout, and a massive anxiety disorder. Because, you have to grind it out for that business; forget your physical, emotional, and mental health.

Let’s not scapegoat my business, however; my lack of self-worth started years, decades even before I opened my former company.

As the oldest of three, I was expected to achieve.

In middle school, I played competitively on an AAU (Amateur Athletic Union) basketball team. I remember never feeling good enough, tying my self-worth up in what my coach thought of me, if our team won or not, or if I scored a certain number of points. Something I loved became something I despised.

Playing basketball in high school left me feeling empty and like fraud. If I wasn’t the best, who was I? The performative pressure was suffocating.

The overachiever in me was never satisfied, never okay with mediocre.

In high school, I took the SAT three times to earn the scholarship I needed to pay for most of my education. I got into the top state schools and even some private colleges. I couldn’t apply to just one. I had to apply to just one more.

With each letter of acceptance, I felt validated. Like I actually belonged and that my life held meaning. Maybe then, when I got into my dream school, I would be worthy, and all of this anxiety would be worth it.

“Where are you going in the fall”? I remember not knowing how to answer that question.

Wanting to go to college and actually going were two very different things.

My parents sent me to a private college prep school, where we were practically reading through course catalogs freshman year. I thought it was something that was next in the sequence of achievements.

On the way home from a college tour in the spring, my mom told me I had to pay for room and board. I just had to figure out how. I ended up staying in my hometown and going to community college, which was a blow to my eighteen-year-old ego. I was devastated, angry with my parents, and frustrated about all the hard work I had put in with nothing to show for it.

My self-worth was in the tank; my need to prove myself was at an all-time high. So was that constant, chirping companion, anxiety.

After two years of community college, I transferred to a state college and chose education as my major. I wanted to be a leader, a catalyst for change, a visionary. I made the Dean’s list, worked my way through college, and even got married.

After I graduated, I taught physical education and was also athletic director of a grade school. I believed that by using my degree I worked so hard for, I would finally be happy and fulfilled. Instead, the position came with a principal who gaslit and bullied me daily, at the time taking away any joy that I had in my chosen field. But I had worked so hard for this. Shouldn’t that be enough?

Working hard was always a badge of honor I wore proudly; more accolades from others to put into the validation tank. All the while, I never felt worthy. As the things I’d worked so hard for were taken away from me, I began to wonder if success was even in the cards.

I felt lost. Undeserving. I was focused on my first year of marriage, teaching, and working on extended family relationships. Would I ever be accepted?

If I tried hard enough, they would like me, the overachiever in me believed.

But wait, was I really an overachiever? Maybe it was something deeper?

Was I just addicted to working hard because I was trying to prove my worth and gain approval?

With a full-blown anxiety disorder, depression, a drinking problem, and zero boundaries, I entered my thirties thinking that if I just made it in business, I would be whole.

What a crock.

The patriarchal standards I had tried to measure up to, were the same ones holding me back from living a life of peace. If I just, “hustled,” and “grinded,” despite the effects on my mental, emotional, and physical health, I could finally prove my worth. All that ended up proving was that mental health matters. My work is not my worthiness.

So how did I go from codependent thinking and seeking validation outside of myself to understanding that we are all born worthy?

First, I had to decide what really lights me up like a firecracker. Passion, playfulness, and purpose are lost when you were trained to look outside yourself for validation.

I’d spent my life focused on achievement. What did “success” even mean? It wasn’t until I was well into my thirties that I realized success, to me, means freedom, and freedom meant letting go.

I had to then get radically honest with myself about my upbringing, my relationships with family members, my belief system, and what I wanted out of life.

Did I really want to run the service-based business I’d started after I quit my teaching job, with several employees, ongoing calls and emails, that had me working holidays, nights, and weekends, and that left me in a people-pleasing tailspin on a regular basis?

My honest answer: No.

Relief washed over me. Not regret, longing, or sadness.

Relief.

I then realized I needed to let go of people-pleasing, overachieving, and the need for external validation in other aspects of my life, which meant doing some radical boundary setting and self-reflection.

Looking back through my years of wearing my hard work in school as a badge of honor, drowning in my former business like a sacrificial lamb, and navigating the sometimes-chaotic waters of a new marriage and family, I can finally understand that my worthiness doesn’t come from others. I am good enough as I am. My oneness comes from within, not from outside accolades.

Getting to the root cause of the unworthiness, worry, and workaholism was a deep dive into my childhood and young adulthood. I realized I carried toxic shame and guilt and believed that if I was just “enough,” I would be able to finally be free.

Turns out, the complete opposite is true. Chasing becomes all-encompassing. I had been treading water; doggie-paddling, not knowing that the pool of people-pleasing I was swimming in was keeping me stuck.

These days, creating takes the place of hard work, clarity takes the place of drinking to cope, and self-compassion takes the place of validation-seeking to prove my worth. And that toxic friend named Anxiety? She still likes to show up unannounced, but I have the self-acceptance and healthy internal dialogue to keep our interactions short.

Take it from this former overachiever: You are worth more than your work and your accomplishments. Just one more client? Just one more call? Not anymore. Now I just choose freedom.

February 1, 2022
How I Overcame My Debilitating Gut Issues by Digesting My Emotions

“I do not fix problems. I fix my thinking. Then problems fix themselves.” ~Louise Hay

Here’s my secret: In order to fully heal over a decade of debilitating digestive disorders, I had to stop trying to heal. Instead, I had to do nothing. What, do nothing? Yes, that’s exactly right—I had to let go of the search for the perfect cure. Let me explain.

I developed chronic gut problems at age fourteen—such a precious age! After being dismissed by doctors (“It’s all in your head; it’s a girl problem”), overprescribed antibiotics for years on end, or just given hopelessly ambiguous, catch-all diagnoses like IBS, gastroparesis, candida, h. pylori, and leaky gut (as any sufferer of gut problems can relate to!), I became my own wellness warrior.

For twelve years, I was on a crusade to find the “right” answer: the right elimination diet, the right supplements, the right doctor, the right healer, the right yoga poses, the right amount of water for my body weight, the right breathing techniques, the right blogger, the right retreat, the right fix that would heal my gut once and for all.

In truth, I was stuck in a healing loop, and healing became my identity. Sound familiar? I let myself believe that I could never be truly healed, so that I would always be chasing the next popular protocol or promise—paradoxically, it was almost easier that way. “Healing,” which is one of the most profound inner transformations we can undergo, had become a completely disembodied, intellectual exercise.

I have to be gentle with myself. My quest was not deliberate self-sabotage. You see, I was desperate to get better.

To not be afraid that any given food, no matter how “healthy,” could set off a land mine of symptoms. To not keep living small so that I could be close to a bathroom and heating pad at a moment’s notice. To stop being defined by my “stomach problems,” and start living fully, or living at all. Until the gut problems led to a cascade of other health problems, and I had to wake up.

In my healing loop, I was cut off from my inner voice, from my inner guidance, my compass. No wonder I couldn’t get off the loop to a place of true equanimity, balance, and wholeness, in all areas of my life.

I had no access to my gut intuition.

Now, I can’t say for sure what came first: suppression of this intuition, which led to gut issues, or the onset of my gut issues themselves, which led to further suppression of my intuition.

Either way, indigestion, in any form, is literally the inability to let go of the past, of experiences and events that are transient, but that we choose to let define us. Our guts are where our will, personal power, and courage reside. Or, when imbalanced or compromised, our guts are where fear, inaction, and indecision take hold.

We know this on the same instinctual level that leads us to say, “She’s got guts; trust your gut; I have a bad gut feeling about him; be more gutsy!” But what if we actually listened and trusted our guts? What does that even mean?

Similarly, we’ve all heard about the mighty microbiome—how we are basically superorganisms composed of trillions of gut bacteria that support everything from immunity to serotonin production. But how does this information translate into the beautiful unification of mind, heart, and belly that leads to quantum healing?

Sure, we know to take probiotics and eat fermented foods to feed our good gut bugs, but how often do we hear about the metaphysical roots of gut problems—fear, dread, anxiety—and how to weed them out?

Beginning to Digest My Emotions

Eventually, when I was twenty-six, I became so depleted from outsourcing my healing powers to “experts,” that the only wounded healer I was left with was myself. Sicker than ever, I realized that no elimination diet would ever work, because there was something else eating away at me.

What was I not digesting? After twelve years of gut problems, I began to ask myself this question. A wonderful massage therapist told me to start talking to my belly, to ask her what she needed.

Every day, I lay down with my hands resting on my stomach, and I simply said, “I am willing to feel what is ready to be felt. I am ready to digest my emotions.” That’s all I did. I lay there and waited for my emotions to arise.

My belly was so tightly contracted, so afraid of herself, that at first, nothing came up at all. I felt completely detached from my entire digestive tract. After all, I’d been beating her up for years, admonishing her for making me sick, feeling completely helpless and victimized in the face of symptoms.

So I just kept my hands on my belly and trusted. I spoke to her softly. “I am well. What I need to heal is already within. I am willing to feel what is ready to be felt.”

Little by little, tears came. I imagined the pain was dissolving as black smoke and floating out of my body. Days passed, then weeks. My belly began to give in. I began to digest. And when I did, my whole body shook with the emotion I was most afraid of, fear itself.

Fear—of failure, of success, of my power, of my weaknesses, of not being enough, of being too much, of the future, of the past, of what was not and what would never be.

I was holding a lifetime of fear in my stomach, and my stomach was contracting around it, protecting that fear like my life depended on it. My life did depend on it—as a defense mechanism from the vulnerability and open-hearted living that lies beyond fear.

That fear was slowly depleting me of my life force, of my ability to assimilate anything positive, from nutrients to joy.

At first, facing a fear so elemental and ingrained can literally seem like dying. And a death of sorts is taking place.

A deeply somatic, cellular release is underway. All the body needs is support to let the process unfold. S/he needs love, rest, and compassion. S/he needs to know she is safe—and s/he will do the rest.

It was in that space of not trying to heal, of doing nothing, where healing really began. Because ‘nothing’ is where the little voice of gut intuition can take form. That little voice, what I call the Inner Wise Woman (or Man), can emerge—first quiet, wounded, and confused, and then a little more resilient each day.

Begin to recognize that voice. Listen to its timbre, its intonations. Learn to trust it. S/he is never wrong. And beyond that voice is where true healing, and true living, begins.

How to Practice Emotional Digestion

How do you digest fear? How do you sit with a belly full of fearful thoughts long enough to witness and dissolve them?

This is the process of emotional digestion that healed my gut after twelve years of incessant pain and discomfort. It is a powerful practice of learning to trust yourself and your intuition, and, if done regularly, will transform much more than just physical pain.

1. Listen

Each symptom is a sign, a messenger, of an inner imbalance at play. You have to get quiet enough to listen to the messages.

Lie on your back in a comfortable position where you can fully relax and release. Place your hands on your belly. Don’t do anything—don’t think about the pain, or what could be causing it, or how to fix it.

Just breathe and be. Trust that the information you need will surface at the perfect moment, when the body is ready to impart his or her wisdom.

After you have brought your mind-body into a state of peace and coherence, send your body a signal of safety by repeating an affirmation:

“I am well. I am whole. I love you and I’m listening.”

You may lie here for half an hour, or for hours. You may be ready to tune in after a few minutes, or you may need to repeat this practice every day.

Know that wherever you are is perfect, and everything you need to heal is already within. All you have to do is listen.

2. Ask

Once you have become comfortable with the practice of simply listening to your body, you are ready to ask him or her what s/he needs. Tell your belly (or whichever part of your GI tract is in pain), either aloud or in your head:

I am fully ready and willing to feel what needs to be felt.

And just see what comes up. Breathe into the answer.

It may be a resounding voice in your head, or a wellspring of emotion, or a very subtle shift in perception. The more you practice, the more refined your intuition will become. Once feelings have begun to arise, ask your belly:

What messages are you sending me through these symptoms?

What feelings can I release from my gut, so I can receive what I need in this moment?

What information do I need to know to heal?

Meditate on the answers. Again, depending on the duration of your symptoms, this process may take months or years for answers to fully reveal themselves.

Don’t worry. Everything is unfolding in perfect time.

3. Shift

You have listened to your body’s innate wisdom and asked for answers. Now it is time to shift this knowledge into deep healing. You are literally transmuting the pain so you can make space for more beauty, grace, health, harmony, and peace in your life.

If you have been storing fear in your belly, call upon courage and belief.

If you have been storing scarcity mindset and inaction, call upon abundance and willingness.

If you have been storing low self-worth, call upon gratitude and peace.

There are many ways to shift a physical manifestation of a metaphysical imbalance—both somatic and emotional. Here are some potent and practical ideas.

Write through whatever answers arose in your emotional digestion, meditation, and self-inquiry practices. Ask your belly to write what s/he really needs to you/through you. Then, do not judge the words—just let them flow. You may be surprised what comes up.

Repeat a positive, present-tense statement daily for a month. For indigestion, author and healer Louise Hay suggests the following: “I digest and assimilate all new experiences peacefully and joyously.”

Move the energy through you. Dancing, shaking, and yoga are among the many powerful ways to literally shift your energy by moving it out of your body, and calling in more refreshing, open, and higher vibrations.

Try energy healing. Sometimes, the support of an intuitive energy healer, reiki practitioner, or bodyworker is fundamental to releasing stored psychospiritual blockages from the body.

Once you have listened, asked, and shifted the energy of fear, pain, indecision, lack of will, or whatever arises from your gut, you make space for a radical, new capacity: your intuition. Your inner knowing. Your Inner Wise Woman or Man.

Next time pain arises, instead of trying to heal, ask your intuition: What does my body need to heal?

And listen as s/he tells you the perfect medicine for your unique body vessel.

May 12, 2021
When Helping Someone Becomes Unhealthy: Why You Can’t Always Say Yes

“When you ask for what you need and receive what people and the world have to give, you reduce stress and gain energy.” ~Amanda Owen

It started out innocently enough. The guy I was dating (let’s call him Eric) was applying to jobs, and I, a writer, could help him with cover letters and applications. I offered to help and thought nothing of it. It seemed like a simple thing to do for someone I cared about.

A few weeks later, Eric had some car trouble and I lent him my car. He drove it around for a week and returned it with less than a quarter tank of gas. Not really awesome of him, but not worth getting angry over. After all, he just had to pay for car repairs and I knew that money was tight for him.

Then one night, Eric and I had plans to hang out. I texted him when I was leaving my house to say he could expect me in twenty minutes.

He replied asking if I could bring two rolls of paper towels with me. Kind of a weird request, but okay…I obliged. When I got to Eric’s apartment and asked why he had me bring paper towels, he shrugged and said that he had run out.

At this point in the story it is probably worth mentioning that Eric lived across the street from a convenience store, where they sell (wait for it…) paper towels.

I wish I could say I ended things there, but this pattern continued until Eric had moved into my house, taken over two spare rooms, parked himself permanently in front of the TV playing video games, and relied on me to cook, clean, and buy all food and supplies for the household.

Eric kept saying he’d pay rent, but never seemed to have the funds, and I knew he made less money than I did so I didn’t press the issue.

He rarely paid when we went out for dinner or drinks; I usually picked up the tab for both of us because I just wanted to get out of the house. I was frustrated, but trying to be supportive and “help” someone through a hard time.

Then after a year and a half I finally started to see (and feel) how damaging this relationship dynamic was.

Eric not only mooched off of me for material things, but he was also draining all of my emotional energy. I’m not sure he was even aware of what he was doing. He was just so bad at managing his own life, coping with hardships, and being an adult that my earnest effort to help him positioned me as his crutch.

This situation is not uncommon; I think we all sincerely want to help when our loved ones are struggling. But there has to be a limit. You simply can’t get caught up in giving so much that your own need for support and caring is squeezed out of the relationship entirely.

The lessons I learned from my experience with Eric can be summed up in four ways:

1. Don’t brush off the “little” things.

It’s easy to make excuses for someone, especially if they’re charming and you genuinely care about them. But be aware of how much laxity you’re granting.

Small things you may be tempted to ignore for the sake of being nice or keeping the peace do have a cumulative effect. If you’re constantly talking yourself into feeling better about someone’s behaviors, it’s time to speak up.

2. Set boundaries and hold the other person accountable.

Just because you can help in a situation doesn’t mean you have to. When you let someone take advantage of your kindness or generosity, you’re setting a dangerous precedent. When someone goes too far in asking something of you, tell them how their request makes you feel and explain why you are choosing not to grant it.

3. Ask for stuff.

Don’t forget that it is important for the other person to understand and respond to your needs, too. If asking for what you want is difficult, start small. Ask them to change the radio station if you don’t like the song, or ask them to hold your hand in public if you need more affection.

Practicing with low-stakes requests will help build confidence for when you need to ask someone to meet your larger needs and desires.

4. Check in with yourself often.

Avoid the pitfall of making the other person the star of the relationship while you play supporting cast. Make a habit of taking time for yourself, reflecting on how the relationship makes you feel, and noting areas of imbalance you need to address. If being with someone is draining you financially or emotionally, it’s time to make changes.

Being in the constant role of caregiver is not just a disservice to you, but a detriment to the relationship itself.

When two people are not on equal footing there’s no room for a real connection to flourish. It’s always a wonderful thing to show kindness and support to a loved one—just be sure to keep a portion of yourself that’s just for you.

Help vector illustration via Shutterstock

August 25, 2015
Understanding and Lifting Depression: 5 Helpful Attitudes

“We are all faced with a series of great opportunities brilliantly disguised as impossible situations.” ~Charles R. Swindoll

People almost always misunderstand depression. I know I used to.

My first dance with depression happened fifteen years ago. I was in my early twenties and it totally freaked me out.

When you’re depressed, your perception of pretty much everything changes.

Except you don’t realize that it’s your perception that’s changed, and instead it feels like the world has turned bad. If you’ve been depressed you’ll know what I’m talking about.

It goes something like this …

One day you feel confident and happy, and then the next day, ugh!

All the ideas and plans you have now seem ridiculous, your thoughts become morbid, and boy do you feel sluggish and sleepy, and why (yawn) is your boyfriend/friend/parent/spouse being so critical and mean all of a sudden?

And if that’s not enough, the world seems more abrasive—as if someone’s turned up the volume and taken off your sunglasses.

This is what happened to me. I cried. I felt sorry for myself. And I couldn’t for the life of me understand why I felt so bad: I had loads of friends and an awesome boyfriend; I’d recently been accepted into a post graduate masters degree program for human nutrition.

Life was good. Or it would be if I only could stop crying!

Finally I went to the doctor, which made me feel better because the doctor told me I had a chemical imbalance in my brain; but then she told me I was “depressed,” which made me cry again since I thought depression was for negative people with no plans for their life.

So that was that. I was depressed. I had an illness. I took the medication and kind of, sort of started to feel better.

But after a year things started to change. I don’t remember why I started doing this—maybe I read it somewhere—but I stopped taking antidepressants, and whenever a “flat” period would come I’d watch it with as much distance as I could summon.

I started to notice that if I just let the “flatness” be and stopped worrying about it, my perception about something would shift, and as it did, the depression would lift.

The more times this happened, the more I began to trust that it was going to happen. And always, there standing on the other side of the flatness, was an understanding that made my life richer, less stressful, and more pleasant, well worth the ticket of entry.

Back then I had very little sense of self-care. I pretty much treated myself like a machine—a friendly, do anything for anyone, study-hard, play-hard machine. (more…)

August 21, 2012