The Valley - Such a familiar place

"Mercury's in retrograde", she said.

That should have helped me feel better.

But then it dawned on me that the lump in my throat wasn't planning on going anywhere just because "it isn't about me". When she offered me "Willow", in my Bach Remedy concoction, I spent fifteen minutes explaining to her why I didn't need it. "Life isn't fair"? Anger? Me? I struggled and finally told her to just put it in. When I start feeling sorry for myself and others, when I find myself worrying accessively, when I ask myself daily and especially when scanning my Facebook wall,  if my "friends" are really still friendly with me? If not, why? Maybe I can fix it. Is Mom disappointed? Could I have done something to help her feel better? Why didn't I ask? -

When that and a lot more races through my brain, I know I'm on my way into the valley. It's a deep and foggy walk down to the flat land below where I walk, and walk. As I walk my mind races for days, mostly in circles and I don't even notice that I haven't been feeling connected - with me. I still talk, communicate, eat, sleep and do all I'm supposed to. But I haven't felt impressed or moved by any of the beauty around me. I don't have feelings for the wonderful things going on. All I do is get by while side-tracking to imagine the worst possible things. I feel really bad about myself and grind myself again and again, inquiring what I've done wrong and then realize I couldn't have done any different. But this doesn't console me. It's a tornado of self-doubt. Circles and circles of guilt and confusion.

It's been a week that I've been walking down here, oblivious of the fact that I'm here again, when suddenly I recognize the landscape. It's lonely and bare down in the valley. The breeze tosses tumble weeds past me and then a shirt and a page and an object here and there. I get a text message that reminds me that close friends are getting married in Cyprus, tomorrow I'm going camping and then flying to New York for the first time at the end of the month. I am going places and doing things with the woman I love. And yet here I walk in my barren, lonely land.

I am not allowed to feel joy when someone I love is suffering, angry or in pain.
I don't allow myself too much joy.

I feel guilty for feeling joy while she suffers.
I'm not allowed to be happy unless she's content.
That's been my motto.
But then it dawns on me that she may never be content.

I have a choice. I can climb out now.

I have to make a choice.
Now.

The easy button, June 2010