EarthFromApollo

Why did it take me so long to see the big picture?

A court ordered my first visit to a therapist at age sixteen. Since then I’ve been in and out of counseling many times. Since 1987 I’ve been a regular attendee at 12-step groups. I became a spiritual seeker. I’ve read innumerable books about psychology, self-help, recovery, and spiritual growth.

But until a few weeks ago, I could not give myself a break. Although I made progress, negativity, fear and regret continued to plague me. I felt little love for myself, and often yearned for death. Those unfamiliar with depression may be shocked by these words. But they won’t surprise many who have experienced mood crises.

Between the ages of sixteen and fifty-one, I engaged in a pitched battle against my demons. In just the past week I’ve experienced an opening. I ask again, why did it take so long?

Having just finished a book entitled “The Five Stages of the Soul”, by Harry Moody, I understand that my path was not unique. Moody charts the typical road to enlightenment as composed of: The Call; The Search; The Struggle; The Breakthrough; and The Return. Note that “struggle” sits right in the middle. To achieve understanding, apparently, one must suffer.

It is hard to imagine anyone having a more sorrowful, pessimistic attitude toward life than I sported until a short time ago. Coming from a catastrophic upbringing, and with many family members afflicted with psychiatric issues, I entered adulthood with both environmental and genetic reasons for major depression. Not that many months ago, I consciously resigned myself to permanent grief, and started working to build a satisfying life in spite of it.

Sadness has not departed. Having lost my mother to depression at age six, my personality may forever feel rooted in bereavement. To my surprise, on the other hand, I now see that my heart retains more capacity for joy than I ever guessed. Despite decades of depression, discouragement, and despair, my resilient human spirit has generated something I never expected: true love of life.

This is not the giddy high that psychiatrists label ‘hypomania’. I am familiar with unbalanced feelings of grandiosity, churning excitement, and unrealistic expectations. They are pleasurable, but short-lived and not particularly wise. My current frame is one of clarity and acceptance. From this new plateau, I see the entire spectrum of my history. For one thing, I recognize that there has been pleasure in addition to pain. Before now, I’ve resisted cherishing even the happy epochs in my saga. But today I can say it: my life has been wonderful in its own way.

This all seems so obvious now, that it is a mystery why I could not see it before. But no matter how long it took, I am glad to be open at last. It grants me an eagerness to help others embrace their lives. Let me start with a guarantee: peace is possible, even for stubborn pessimists.

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