There are a million of these stories out there, some have made the writer famous while most have been read by friends and family only to be forgotten a day or two later. I hope that none of them have gone unread.
Even though there are millions of these stories out there I still want to tell you mine. Because mine is different, no it's not particularly special or amazing, it's simply mine and that's what makes it different.
Just to add a disclaimer, I love all of the things I'm about to mention. I'm not 'hating' on them or the people who make and love them. I'm one of you, I'm just using them as a vessel to make a point.
Recently we've all become slightly obsessed with inspirational things, have you noticed? There are calendars, books and videos. There's clothing and gadgets and who even knows what else all designed with the sole intention of inspiring us to be happy. They go by affirmations, inspirations and motivations and have spread through the internet like wildfire even seeping into non-cyber shopping and media. It's a worthwhile cause, like I said I pretty much love them. But, this part gets me a little...uncomfortable, this idea of being happy has become a business. Happiness is commercial now, telling someone how to be happy is basically a solid business plan now and that just doesn't sit too well with me. I don't mind people making money on things they've worked hard on, or are passionate about or whatever. I get that money is pretty important if you want to live nowadays, it's just all a bit much for my tastes.
Now, you probably already know that I have clinical depression, that doesn't mean that I'm 'sad' or 'down' or upset because I ran out of ice cream, it actually means that there is a chemical imbalance in my brain that's probably always been there and probably always will be. Some days it's more imbalanced than others and sometimes that imbalance can last a while. To get back to my point, when I have been in the darkest pits of depression no amount of platitudes have helped significantly me. I have not looked at a photo of a cat telling me that 'you got this' and suddenly jumped back up to normal life. It just doesn't happen. Sure, it's cute and I love seeing them to make me smile for a moment and I do remember particular ones that touched me but they didn't fix anything or impact upon my life in a significant way.
(Did you know that getting sidetracked like this, losing focus and evading something is a symptom of depression...)
If you don't have depression and simply find yourself thinking that everything is dark and mean sometimes then this advice absolutely goes for you too, so listen up.
So, what's my secret? How do I crawl out of that hole? Well, I'm not sure I do, I feel like I get about halfway out most of the time and that's fine by me. How do I get to even halfway when the light is so dim and the world so numbingly grey?
I look at the trees; I look at my dog; I looks at pizza and lactose free chocolate milk; I listen to angsty teenage songs and piano concertos; I read trashy celebrity news and literary fiction; I just take in the world around me and remember one vital thing. This world, this universe, this life and eternity where made just for me. Just as they're made just for you. If you were the only living thing in all of creation, the world would be just as wonderous. Pizza would still taste so good, puppies would still have waggly tails and the stars would still burn brightly. Because, the creator of all of this stuff is desperate for me to be happy and that doesn't cost a penny.
If you need an inspirational book or two to get your day going I have some you can borrow, in fact I'll give you your very own, it's one of the oldest records of this world and has one central theme. There is so much hope.
So why has this basic principle become big business? In short, the world is a scary place full of expectations and blame. We all need cheering up once in a while, some of us need a little more when that black dog of depression comes round for a party, so the self-same world as that ones who made us feel bad are also the ones making us feel good. Do you see how that is a great business plan? Have some one pay you to make them unhappy, then have them pay you to make them happy again.
I'm categorically not saying that faith or religion will cure mental illness. Let me say that again, faith and religion will not cure mental illness. Don't come running after me with a lynch mob, okay?
I'm also not claiming that my faith has fixed my depression, it's still there and probably always will be. My faith enables me to remember that there is more than the nothingness when it seems like there isn't. When I found my connection to Heavenly Father and the Saviour I was in one of the darkest places I've ever been, I couldn't see a way out or even a reason why I would want there to be a way out. I was almost content in my misery, the world was grey and I was way too tired to care. Knowing that there is more than this life and realising that I had someone who love me so immensely that he created a universe for me gave me so much hope that my grey fog seemed just a little thinner than usual.
Did you catch my drift? You don't need all of these ...things... to be happy, you can like them and make them and do whatever but they're not necessary.
I need to turn on your selfie-mode camera, or go and find a mirror for a second okay?
The greatest reason to be happy to ever be in existence is right in front of you. It's under your feet and in your fridge; it's holding your hand and blasting out of your headphones. And it's absolutely free.
No comments:
Post a Comment