I did a lot of thinking today. Andras is out of town for work, so I spent a lot of my day thinking about what I (we) discovered yesterday.
The majority of my thoughts were just that I’m so shocked that I’ve been in a state of moderate depression for over three years now, and I didn’t know it. Did my therapist know? In going through the events and life changes that have occurred since I moved back, this is the basic summary: I became over-worked, let go of several supports (certain friends and family members) and stopped taking care of myself and doing things I enjoy.
Today I asked myself what was different about my life when I was happy. That led me to wonder what being happy really means… Have I ever been happy? I know that sounds like a ridiculous question – but still.
So I changed the question to: when did I feel good? This is my current answer. 1. When I was a Practicing Christian. 2. When I was a disciplined yoga practitioner and 3. When I lived in Hungary.
I know I’ve had this revelation before, but each time it comes back, it speaks to me louder. I need a foundation, something to believe, something to come back to, something that assures me that I’m always ok, no matter what, even when I’m not. Was I just naive? Is this possible?