this is the metaphor that came to me last night as i was trying to do move related work in the depressed frame of mind i've been in of late. every movement, every thought, every action -- it all seems to take at least twice as much energy and effort as it normally would (or at least what the vague recollection i have of normal tells me it would). and at the end of the activity, there isn't even the feeling of satisfaction that i've completed a task. i just feel like there's even more to do and i stress about how am i ever going to accomplish it all. i suppose it doesn't help that i feel like i may be nursing a cold as well.
being in this mood is part of the reason that i have such little enthusiasm for going into therapy. as i believe i've shared a few times on this blog, i've been in therapy before, and if my memory is correct, it can be a torturous experience. mining the depths of one's soul for both your own and another's examination is neither easy nor for the faint of heart. and it's that last part that makes me question whether i really am ready to do this. my heart has not felt so weak and fragile in quite some time nor my soul so battered and weary. and then there's the niggling question of what good will it do anyway? are weekly 50 minute sessions really going to be able to effect change in my life when so much of what i want changed feels out of my control and it seems like i haven't done so well with the few things that i could manage?
even so, i know that i have to try something. i can't keep having every night (and even a few moments during the day) filled with depressive thoughts of how everything is wrong and desires that my life would just end. still, as i facetiously noted yesterday, it feels like the best time to go through therapy is really when you don't need to go through therapy. though, truth be told, when you're feeling weary and sticky from your movement through life, well, that's probably even a better time.
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