I was writing out a list of personal boundaries (because honestly, I've never done it before, and now being in my 30s and writing them down, I see how important they really are) when the armadillo came across my Facebook feed. I found it interesting, so I did a little investigation on the animal totem and discovered this story. I swear, the Universe sometimes works in strange ways...
Armadillo wears its armor on its back, its medicine a part of its body. Its boundaries of safety are part of its total being. Armadillo can roll into a ball and never be penetrated by enemies.
What a gift it is to set your boundaries so that harmful words or intentions just roll off. Your lesson is in setting up what you are willing to experience. If you do not wish to experience feeling invaded, just call on Armadillo medicine.
If Armadillo has waddled into your cards, it is time to define your space. [...] It may be time to ask yourself the following questions: (1) Am I honoring the time I need for my personal enjoyment? (2) Do others treat me as a doormat? (3) Why do I always get upset when I am taken for granted? (4) Is there a reason for my being a "yes" person?
[...] If you have no boundaries, you are like a sponge. It will seem as if all the feelings in a room full of poeple must be yours. Ask yourself if you are really feeling depressed, or if this feeling actually belongs to the person you are talking to. Then allow Armadillo's armor to slide in between, giving you back your sense of self.
[...]
The underside of Armadillo is soft, but its armor will protect this softness if the boundaries are in place. Hiding from your true feelings and fearing failure or rejection will amplify your need for cast-iron protection. You have the power to rid yourself of these doubts and to touch the deepest part of beingness. You will know you are doing the right thing.
Overview: Respect your Sacred Space. Drop hesitations and banish abuse. Use proper boundaries and thrive.
I'm not going to crack. There's too much in this world that brings me joy, pleasure, excitement, unbridled happiness, and to forsake all that for the darkness that envelops me... I can't crack.
It's so easy to forget all that is good when your perception of the world flatlines. Not really dead, but not really here; hovering just in the middle, where even finding something truly enjoyable is suppressed by the weight of all things heavy and disheartening and depressing.
I've been like this for a couple days now with no real sign of the clouds lifting. Those of you who also suffer depression know it just happens -- one day, you're driving down the road on your way to work and you wonder if it would really be all that bad if one of the two-by-fours in the truck ahead of you dislodged and flew through your windshield. It's not a serious thought, really, but you're struck by how little you believe that matters, or that anything actually matters.
All the energy I have is devoted to mustering even a breath. Writing this? Difficult, considering I can't feel my arms. And the voices in my head telling me "you're worthless, why would anyone want to stay, don't say anything, keep to yourself, you're shitty and no one loves you..." they end up taking away that energy to breathe, to type, to rationalize.
But I'm still here, and at this point, that's really all that counts. I have a beautiful boy and a strong love keeping me afloat, though neither understands what's going on or how to help, if they can at all. Sometimes, all you need is for your son to laugh uncontrollably as you make "tickle bubbles" in the pool, or for your partner to offer their hand... not grab it, not drag it over, but let it be there for when you need that lifeline.
And I have myself. That doesn't feel like much right now -- in fact, having myself feels more like a burden than a blessing, especially as I continue keeping others' feelings in consideration and further neglecting myself by telling myself how undeserving I am. When I return, though? I'll have myself, truly.
Something good has to come out of this. I can't be "gifted" with this ugly, manipulative monster and not see how his existence can actually better my life when he's vanquished (until the next time, at least). I've been dealt a hand containing all these shitty low-value cards, but what if they amount to a royal flush?
In that spirit, and in the interest of finding a bright spot somewhere, here are my Top Eight Good Things About Depression:
1. I have become pretty self-aware.
I mean, I consider myself a pretty "happy" person a majority of the time, which is probably why it shocks others to the core when I fall victim to depression. Those moments, though, when the darkness sets in and your world comes to a standstill while the planet continues revolving, act as a viewfinder into who you are and force you to become introspective.
As a result of this questioning and analyzing, you have a better perspective on how your behavior affects yourself and those around you, and you take active measures to remain cognizant of both. Many great creators -- artists, musicians, poets, writers -- have experienced depression at some point, and it's likely this introspection that leads them to the art they create.
2. I am more empathetic.
Not everyone wears their heart on their sleeve, but I've noticed those who speak little to others actually reach out to me in need. I like to think struggling with your own inner demons leads to a better understanding of what's important to others, and when you share that importance with them, it makes them feel appreciated and valued. I've had some fascinating discussions with people who want only to be heard by someone who truly wants to hear about their passions.
3. Depression helps my thinking.
Okay, not all the time -- see the two-by-four. There are times when the thoughts only serve to hurt you. But those less threatening obsessions and ruminations actually become fodder for analytical thinking. Your brain is constantly on the treadmill, running through its monstrous thoughts ("he hates me, he never loved me, and why would he considering who I am"), then once you realize it's the monster thinking and not you, seeking ways in which that monster is wrong.
4. I don't have a choice about staying physically fit.
Yoga is one of my mainstays for staying sane, so I practice at least twice a week. I'm developing a home practice, too, with the help of some killer podcasts. I've also developed a link between eating well and positive days; perhaps more importantly, there exists the desire to drown myself in carbs and cheese and chocolate and other crap food when I'm feeling down, and that only serves to make me feel even heavier (in more ways than just physically).
I'm by no means disciplined, and sometimes I do give in to those desires -- my lunch today is leftover lasagna, speaking of carbs and cheese -- but eating better and exercising means feeling better, too.
5. I am less judgmental.
You've heard the demand for people to pull themselves "up by their bootstraps," right? Even if they're giving their all, it's never enough for those who believe everyone can do better. Being disabled by a disease that wrecks my life to varying degrees every month or two, I know firsthand just how difficult it is to tear yourself out of bed and brush your teeth, much less the effort someone may need to put in every day to accomplish at least that much. I also know what it's like to be judged by these efforts, and like hell will I ever judge anyone for putting in the most they can, even if it seems very little to those around them.
6. I've cultivated compassion.
When you have experienced the want to cry in the middle of a board room for no reason at all, you become attuned to people who want to do the same. Even listlessly staring into space can be sign enough that someone needs to know they're valued, they're loved, they're important. Now when I see someone tearing up, I instantly tune into my intuition, feeling the weight of their sadness, and offer a hand or a hug if they want. It's nice to know someone recognizes it and cares about you, even if it's a small gesture of kindness.
7. I retreat!
This is a constant work in progress, but I know I get angry and lash out when I fall into a state of depression, and I've learned to say little or to watch my tone when I do speak. It's difficult to keep others' needs in mind when you're not even focusing on your own, but being an asshole when depressed doesn't help the other person, especially since they're likely not the cause. I've even resorted to, "I love you, I just don't love myself right now, and I don't want to say anything I may regret later. I'm going to read for a bit," just to remove myself from situations.
8. Every day -- and every little thing -- counts.
I've truly believed this in the first place, anyway, but when life is so difficult you feel like literal crap, it's so easy to fall into a negativity trap and allow it to consume us. Good days are easy; I can appreciate the warm sun, my favorite shows, satisfying sex. Doing this when you're depressed? Like you're not already running a marathon to get yourself out the door, now I need to appreciate things, too?
Those little things you take for granted when you're happy feel herculean when depressed. Like right now, I am typing, breathing, and listening to music, all the while feeling nothing... so my exercises are to appreciate the ability to read, the clean air mingled with others' lunches cooking up (and their great cooking, if it smells this good!), and the guitar riffs lining up beautifully with the vocals.
Even as I write that, it puts me into the present, and those problems or emptiness I felt moments ago lift temporarily. For people suffering depression, there are these brief windows of respite, and those times lead to really clinging to those positive thoughts until they dominate once again.
