Struggling with my Muse

‘Write. All rooms are quiet now. Only the moon light. No one will call. Get up, turn on the laptop, and write.’ 

‘I’m sleeping.’ 

‘You’re talking guff.’   

Spoiler Alert Black Mirror

 Dear Future Historian,                                                                                 06/07/2023 Canterbury UK

I am so depressed today. Let me rephrase that. I feel so depressed today. The attention to detail in language, especially the written one I suppose, is crucial. I do not identify with my depression. Thus, it is not that I am, me personally, depressed as a state of being. Depression is an add-on. Something that I feel, but it’s not me. Like a smell. Like a thought. This is what meditation and mindfulness are teaching. Detachment from negative thoughts and feelings. You cannot make them disappear, you cannot pause them, you cannot mute them. Still, when you realise that you can just let them be as a noise in the background, then you can just continue your life—almost as if—they’re not even there.

However, you should never try to shut them up. There comes a point where, you realise that the background voices aren’t your enemy at all. They are just super anxious and over-conscious guards. Warning systems. But, not like a bot (no offence my dear Bots). Or, if like bots, then like the ones in the Black Mirror episode, the one that you got a conscious and sentient bot version of yourself, to set up the thermostat in your house and make your toast.

A short spiritual bio

The other day, one of my friends on Facebook was trying to introduce to me a 'new' miraculous way of thinking that will help me: overcome the health problems that (according to my social media feed) I have been accumulating, due to my 'wrong' way of thinking! This made obvious to me that most of you do not really know who I am, and it is understandable to make wrong conclusions, when all I’m giving you is random posts, connected to my here-and-now, unrelated with my story thread. So, let me introduce myself.

Fighting for a medical appointment

Dear future historian,

I am, as I’m writing this, number 18th in the medical centre's phone queue. I'm waiting 45 min already. I was number 30 in the queue when this call started.

Let me introduce you to the story:

Inner Dialogue

Dear Future Historian,

Today I was informed indirectly, by her psychologist, that I don't exist cause she's not crazy enough! I believe the way it was phrased was: It’s time you admit the fact that even you know that she does not exist… because you aren’t schizophrenic; you're just autistic with big imagination. 

Start over and over again.. and again

Dear future historian,

Some days I feel empty, like all my energy has been used. Like fatigue is stronger than me. These days I've learned to start over, to begin again. 

About 10 years ago, I was living in Thessaloniki, Greece, up on hill, about 30 minutes walking distance from the centre. I frequently took long walks, with my baby girl in a slink. One day I met my mum, went out for a walk in the centre, then went to a play area for quite some time, then started walking up the hill, home. On the way I suddenly realised that it has been more than 6 hours since the last time I ate anything, and the baby hasn't stopped breastfeeding, and I feel like passing out. Half way home I felt like I couldn't make another step. That was as far as my limits can take me.

Inherited guilt

Dear future historian,

Sorry. I had two days of going out for post office, grocery shopping and stuff.. and I just didn't find any time to write to you. This lockdown made me realise how much energy I loose when I go out with a 'to do list' and how happy I am at home. (At least I hugged a Tree.)

I.. how can I tell you that?

Well, just some days before the pandemic was known and the lockdown was a thing I wished to stay home for 6 months. I just felt exhausted, and I could tell that I needed a break.