Ysiad

todo::
* 30 minutes on the programming tutorial Did over an hour
* Day Two of journaling about Grief/Sadness/Regret & Depression

habits::
* Meditation – Day 682
* Journaling – Day 25
* Yoga – Day 24

reflections:: 7:55am. Yesterday was a fun day. Things kept moving forward from a work perspective, and I went on a walk for a bit after having a dinner meeting. It was my first time leaving the house in a probably about a week or so, since it was really cold outside and I just didn’t feel like going out there. I’m glad to have the habits that I do. In addition to the work things moving forward, it’s really incredible that things have moved forward with regards to my developing more emotional awareness and flexibility thanks to journaling and yoga.

Reflecting for the second day on grief, I found myself asking questions around why it is that I’m so scared of being depressed. It was not a particularly productive question the way I asked it in my head, because it was coming with the intention of proving to myself that I don’t need to be scared of it. What if instead, I asked with the intention to truly understand the aversion to depression? What are all the ways that being averse to regret and depression makes sense?

I’ve a sense that allowing myself to grieve equates to finally admitting that whatever it is I’m grieving for is actually lost. Like if your child is missing, you can’t really grieve while you’re still hoping they’ll come back. Or if you have a dream, you can’t grieve the death of that dream while it’s still alive. So it requires truly admitting and accepting a loss, which is hard, and then being open to the feelings that follow. Which can be just as hard if not harder. So of course there’s a lot that gets stuck in the place between guilt and grief – you have to admit that there is no longer hope for whatever outcome it is that you sought to achieve. You have to acknowledge the death of a dream and let go of it. From that perspective, what are some dreams that I might be holding onto, that might be hard to let go of, but that represent an acceptance of clear reality?

• I have to let go of the idea that I can rewrite history and have the courage to tell any given person I had a crush on in high school that I had a crush on her. It’s more accurate to acknowledge that didn’t happen and that’s that.
• I have to let go of the idea that the business ventures and partnerships that I embarked on that failed were good ideas or that they have a chance at being successful or that we in a reality where they are successful.
• I have to let go of the idea that my mother will solve her mental health issues and throw out all the broken furniture she’s hoarding and be someone it’s healthy for me to live with.
• I have to let go of the idea that I’ll be able to go into a time machine, act differently in various situations and live in a different present.
• I have to let go of the possibility that the people I’ve interacted with in the past will be different people who understood me or treated me differently and made different choices.
• I have to let go of the possibility that I’ll wake up and be in a present where I’m any different than I already am.

As I type those things out, I’m noticing a certain freedom. I feel lighter. And then I find myself asking how those things tie to grief. Well, I think it’s about taking another step and saying that I’m sad about each of those things.

• I feel sad that I cannot rewrite history and tell this person or that person I had a crush on in high school that I had a crush on her. I wish I did, and that I lived through the rest of my life going into the present with the memories of having done so and being able to say that I rose to the occasion. I’m sad that I was cowardly. I’m sad that I go through the world not being the sort of person who was naturally more courageous in those aspects.
• I feel sad that various business ventures and partnerships didn’t work out. For the most part, they represented me pursuing an idea I thought was cool, with people I wanted to get to know better. I’m sad that I’ve lost friendships or learned that some relationships I thought were friendships were not particularly robust.
• I feel sad that my mother has mental health issues and that I cannot fix them for her. I wish she could be as happy and fulfilled as I think she could be in my imagination, and it’s sad that she lives in a big apartment that’s full of junk.
• I feel sad that there’s parts of me that I’m disappointed by. That I have to accept myself and that who I am isn’t “better” in so many different ways.
• I feel sad that all these people I’ve interacted with in the past don’t understand me and never will. That they are themselves and not the version of themselves that’s exactly the same except in some seemingly minor way that would put them more aligned with some version that I imagine they could be from my third party perspective.
• I feel sad that I am who I am. That I’m not the same me but maybe I didn’t eat that cookie, or I started making food for myself earlier, or I invested in bitcoin when I first heard about it, or I filled out my taxes on time, or I was a little more organized.

Writing those, I feel more connected to other humans. I feel like I understand myself and other people better. 8:30am