Previously: Deathcake is self-directed schadenfreude driven by Murphy's Law: things not only can get worse, but will, and they should do so as fast as possible. Perhaps slowing down is not such a bad idea after all--but what does that process look like?
Pain is a great motivator. It alerts me to a problem, and since I'm hypersensitive to sensory inputs, it doesn't take much pain to drive me over the edge. Since I'm hyperactive as well as hypersensitive, relief takes the form of urgent motion. This looks like taking charge and acting responsibly (see what I did there?).
It's actually panic disguised as control. The hyperactive brain takes over, delighted to have both focus and motion. This is near-instant gratification. Pain and panic have no memory; they are, in a macabre way, the ultimate Mindfulness experience. If you've ever broken a bone, or been to the emergency room as the patient, you know what I'm talking about.
So here we are in my geo-meteorological map, having evolved a bit from the previous blog entry.
View attachment 15244
My faults (fault lines) are still present, and I'm kind of aware of them, but not in any useful way. They're more like identity markers: "this is the way I am." I'm aware of some new dim pain that is the new stress fracture--usually taking the form of "oh, God, this new pain is a consequence of my previous faults!" However, I'm in the middle of relocating my comfort zone to Panic for the relief that fast overreaction brings me.
Now my default state is all about Now, and in the present tense, with the objective of controlling the future. My brains are focused on calculating outcomes. All the lightning is now happening inside my head. Panic outpaces thought. I can't be deep at speed, except in the tornado, which means I haven't noticed that an existing fault line is opening wider. I can't see what's coming while I ride the eye of what's here.
View attachment 15245
Now the "Hanging Judge" in my conscious, the critical voice, starts telling me what an idiot I am. (Not "I've been an idiot" but "I am an idiot.") I'm totally in the now, I have no history, but I have identity. And guilt. Oh, I am so guilty. Deathcake swells as I remember all the times I've done IT before, whatever IT is.
At that point, I am equally certain that in the entire history of the world, no one has ever screwed up like this before. I am at fault, solely responsible for the mess I am making. I know no one else will ever understand what a freak show I made of what was just an ordinary situation.
So I'm getting my just desserts when I start sliding into the abyss with that quiet, innocuous-sounding name, "depression."
Only a few things can pull me out of it, and they all have only one thing in common.
View attachment 15246
Love in all its forms from others: love of God, love of me, love of the outcome of restoration and resurrection work, love of knowledge and right use of it; I have, on occasion, felt loved even by my doctors. Love of my family, two- and four-footed.
And it's the only thing that can repair the fractures and fissures and make me whole.
And then I emerge, blinking, from the abyss, and start cleaning up the mess I made because I just.could.not.control.my.need.for.control.
But I can't break a "vicious cycle" (a cycle that reinforces itself in a negative way) if I haven't identified its triggers, its endpoints, its course, and am willing to give up the illusion of control.
Ain't there yet. But I'm making progress. This blog proves it. And it's time for a visit to the Deathcake Bakery.
Pain is a great motivator. It alerts me to a problem, and since I'm hypersensitive to sensory inputs, it doesn't take much pain to drive me over the edge. Since I'm hyperactive as well as hypersensitive, relief takes the form of urgent motion. This looks like taking charge and acting responsibly (see what I did there?).
It's actually panic disguised as control. The hyperactive brain takes over, delighted to have both focus and motion. This is near-instant gratification. Pain and panic have no memory; they are, in a macabre way, the ultimate Mindfulness experience. If you've ever broken a bone, or been to the emergency room as the patient, you know what I'm talking about.
So here we are in my geo-meteorological map, having evolved a bit from the previous blog entry.
View attachment 15244
My faults (fault lines) are still present, and I'm kind of aware of them, but not in any useful way. They're more like identity markers: "this is the way I am." I'm aware of some new dim pain that is the new stress fracture--usually taking the form of "oh, God, this new pain is a consequence of my previous faults!" However, I'm in the middle of relocating my comfort zone to Panic for the relief that fast overreaction brings me.
Now my default state is all about Now, and in the present tense, with the objective of controlling the future. My brains are focused on calculating outcomes. All the lightning is now happening inside my head. Panic outpaces thought. I can't be deep at speed, except in the tornado, which means I haven't noticed that an existing fault line is opening wider. I can't see what's coming while I ride the eye of what's here.
View attachment 15245
Now the "Hanging Judge" in my conscious, the critical voice, starts telling me what an idiot I am. (Not "I've been an idiot" but "I am an idiot.") I'm totally in the now, I have no history, but I have identity. And guilt. Oh, I am so guilty. Deathcake swells as I remember all the times I've done IT before, whatever IT is.
At that point, I am equally certain that in the entire history of the world, no one has ever screwed up like this before. I am at fault, solely responsible for the mess I am making. I know no one else will ever understand what a freak show I made of what was just an ordinary situation.
So I'm getting my just desserts when I start sliding into the abyss with that quiet, innocuous-sounding name, "depression."
Only a few things can pull me out of it, and they all have only one thing in common.
View attachment 15246
Love in all its forms from others: love of God, love of me, love of the outcome of restoration and resurrection work, love of knowledge and right use of it; I have, on occasion, felt loved even by my doctors. Love of my family, two- and four-footed.
And it's the only thing that can repair the fractures and fissures and make me whole.
And then I emerge, blinking, from the abyss, and start cleaning up the mess I made because I just.could.not.control.my.need.for.control.
But I can't break a "vicious cycle" (a cycle that reinforces itself in a negative way) if I haven't identified its triggers, its endpoints, its course, and am willing to give up the illusion of control.
Ain't there yet. But I'm making progress. This blog proves it. And it's time for a visit to the Deathcake Bakery.
