In The Middle
A Personal Exploration of Finding Peace
For years I didn’t understand how to be in the middle. All of the emotions I felt were always too much or too little. Sometimes nothing at all.For moments I would be gloriously happy. I would feel like I had finally cracked the code. I could overcome my depression. I was chasing smiles and laughter and lightness.
But happiness doesn’t last forever.
As soon as I felt myself coming down. The happiness crawling out of my bones leaving me heavy and burdensome. I felt like a failure. I had to have done something wrong to lose my happiness. I could have tried harder. Been better.
I know now that chasing the ups… all it leads to is disappointment when you fall. I was clutching on to my happiness begging it to stay longer. If I did everything I could, maybe it would be good enough for it to stay. I sat there every time watching it shrink like a dying fire until my hands were only gripping one another and I was left in the dark.
Next came the anger. The sadness. The guilt. The resentment.
And then I would explode.
I would seethe in anger, my fists trembling, nails biting into my palms. It was deep inside me, pushing to get out and it almost burned. I wanted to tear at myself hoping it would find me some release. I wanted blood. I wanted my blood. I wasn’t good enough and I deserved the pain I felt. Maybe it would remind me to be better next time. To not fall next time. Finally, my body would shake and my chest would crack open with each sob that left my mouth. All of the raw emotion would pour out of me until I was empty. Until all I was left with was a pit in my chest, a numbness to the world, and an almost impossible to resist pull to my bed.
I had never known calm or peace. It has always been up or down. Too much or nothing at all. It took many years to realize I was chasing the wrong thing. What I have learned to do, after many trials and error, is to chase the calm.
I force myself to go on walks, write in my journal, listen to my music, and pay attention to my mind and body. I focus on the stillness and quietness of the scenery around me. I wouldn’t describe myself as happy in these moments. I am likely not even smiling. I am alone and it is quiet except for the breeze rustling the trees. If I don’t focus on this feeling, it is easy to ignore — believe it is not good enough.
However, if I focus on my breath, the chirps of birds, the muffled voices of people strolling, the quietness of my thoughts… I can feel it. How momentous this is for me to experience. I am okay and it is strange. I rarely ever felt okay during my ups and downs. I was either horribly depressed and angry or so filled with joy I felt like I could do anything I set my mind to. This calm feels good. It feels soft and mellow and something entirely unfamiliar. Each time I take it in, I become a little more acquainted with it. It is easier to find. It is easier to feel.
No, I am not filled with joy in these moments, but I am calm and I am okay and that is enough.
