and again, weeks and weeks have gone by. i've been drowning in depression, and every time i think the tide is coming in and i think that i might be able to reach dry land, another current catches me and i'm pulled back under. depression ebbs and flows, but my compass has been completely shattered in the storm - i usually have a better sense of how long i've been treading water, when i've reached the eye of the storm, if i'll get a glimpse of the horizon soon. but this time around i spent so much energy pushing it away, trying to hold it back, that now i'm utterly lost at sea. i've been struggling in particular with my history of self-harm, and have gone down the terrible rabbit hole of comparing my struggle to that of others. any therapist, self-help book, or rational human will tell you that this is a terrible idea, that recovery is not a race, that everyone copes differently. but when i see the love and support given to friends of mine, whether they're surviving sexual assault, dealing with crippling anxiety, recovering from eating disorders, or learning how to embrace life after a failed suicide attempt, i can't help but feel ugly and lonely and wrong. why is it easy for me to extend kindness and sympathy and generosity to others that are struggling, and yet impossible for me to offer myself the same courtesy? my laundry list of issues are long and growing longer by the day, and yet when i see someone that has but one item on my own list, my heart aches for them. why can't i ache for myself? why do i constantly listen to that nasty voice in my head, the one that says that nobody cares about me, that i have to be strong and not burden anyone else, that people only like me because of what i can give them?
my therapist is kind, my husband is supportive, and the few others in my life who know the ins and outs of my struggles have been wonderful. so why this need for me? why does my heart swell with envy when i see a friend post about her suicide attempt and get endless comments and notes of support, of love, of encouragement? people telling her she's brave, she's strong, she's a fighter, she's powerful, she's an inspiration.
i tried, and failed, twice. what does that make me? (the voice in my head says, "it makes you a failure.")
i brought all of this to the cards today. and they didn't let me down: i pulled the tower.
not for the faint of heart, this card. and though the instinct is to recoil, to cower in fear, to weep and beg and sorrow, perhaps this card and this depression are markers of real, internal movement. the tower signifies a permanent evolution, irrevocable change, a deep, significant transformation. there's no going back to what we were before - we have to move forward into that wild unknown, whether we like it or not.
and perhaps the cards are simply urging me to learn from my darker past and stop being so afraid. step into the light. reveal the scary. shed that skin. if support is what you need, stop being afraid of rejection and simply ask for it.
naturally, steeped in fear and desperate to be wrong, i pulled a second clarification card: the nine of cups. a card of satisfaction, of pleasure, of contentment. it's all about enjoying what's in the present, reveling in stable, calm energy, and indulging in the things that give us joy.
could there be a stranger pair? i'm not sure. but what i see is that upheaval is necessary, that change is a'comin', that the very foundations of my world are altering. and yet, there is peace to be found. there is serenity in knowing that this evolution is extremely necessary, and that i have been stagnant for far too long.
there's a lot to process here, with many truths that i'm not sure i'm ready to see. but i've let the cards be silent for far too long, and i know in my bones that it's time to listen. maybe that means that there are others in my life who are ready to listen too.