Not-So-Secret Sorrows

You cannot prevent the birds of sadness from passing over your head, but you can prevent their making a nest in your hair
~Chinese Proverb

As some know, I feel quite a lot of affection for select writers/poets/philosophers. Among them, of course, is Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. There is a quote, from Longfellow, that I have considered often as I contemplate the reactions of people other than myself. People whose behavior might be confusing to others; people who are likely being misinterpreted or misconstrued. The quote:

“Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.”

Usually, the quote has a very different meaning for me. Under normal circumstances, it is a gentle reminder to make allowances; to not make assumptions; to be understanding. It is a commentary on the individuality of humans; on the inevitable inclination that we have to presume that our actions/reactions should be mirrored in those around us. The assumptions that we make all of the time, based on our own unique behaviors, experiences, or reactions. If – when I am happy – I smile, then a smile on the face of the man across the street must mean that he’s happy. But what if that man is not smiling? What if he is baring his teeth, as his mother taught him to do when he is uncomfortable? (Okay… a bit of an odd example, but I’m hoping that you can stretch with me here.)

These days, this favorite quote is a reminder of my sadness, and the causes for that emotion. Unfortunately, these days nearly everything is a reminder of my sadness. Driving? How depressing. Going to work? Nearly unbearable. Drinking hot chocolate? I can barely contain my tears…

I am so very, very tired of feeling sad. I’m so tired of feeling sad that I’ve begun to use “anger” as a bit of an escape from it. When the weight of it becomes too much, I find myself thinking thoughts of this sort:

“Idiot. How are you going to get on with your life if you feel like that? You are absolutely WASTING TIME.”

Or

“That is enough. Do you want me to GIVE you something to be sad about? Hmmm? Do you? Fine. I’ll come up with some terrible, horrible thoughts, and then you’ll see what sad REALLY feels like.”

Or perhaps

“Guess what? You know the way you’ve been acting lately? Dragging about, always tired, always on the verge of crying…. That’s going to lead to awful things. That’s right. You’re probably going to get pulled over for erratic driving. Your favorite pants – they’re toast. Might as well kiss those goodbye. I’m sure you’ll stain them within the next week. Oh – and that job you have right now?? You’re DEFINITELY about to lose that….”

As you might imagine, I haven’t been exactly “cheery” lately. I’m tired of myself…. And everyone out there who continues to see me – who continues to converse with me – you are insane. But thank you. You are all marvelous people, and – when I recover – I shall be certain to bestow loads of “happy thoughts” upon you. [DISCLAIMER: My current pessimistic state is insisting that I allow for the possibility that I shall NEVER recover, and that I shall live out the rest of my days in the “depths of despair.” (That last bit is a literary reference, and those of you who are fortunate enough to recognize it are at an advantage in this cruel world.) ]

Not only am I horrid company (unless you are already miserable, since – as they say – “misery loves company”) but my mind has essentially gone to hell. I’m walking into walls, (no, I am NOT kidding – and it’s not just walls. I have random bruises all over my legs from walking into countless unidentified objects…), I’m forgetting important facts, I’m incapable of focusing, and – VERY disturbingly – I’m losing things. And now we come to a crucial part of this essay: The Plea For The Return Of The Yoga Bag.

If ANYONE has spotted a black bag, embroidered with the American Cancer Society Active For Life logo, notify me IMMEDIATELY. The bag is approximately 6 years old, and has never been on its own before. It is filled with a wide selection of yoga clothes, and also with ONE OF MY FAVORITE t-shirts (orange, with a reference to “good karma” on it… this is nearly unbearably ironic should my bag prove to be stolen…) and one of my favorite pairs of jeans. REWARD offered.

I have searched high and low for my bag, and cannot possibly imagine where it might be. This is so entirely out of character that I have been forced to admit that I am not Myself. (I was able to stay in Denial up until this point, but apparently the loss of the bag resulted in my eviction from the premises.) Who I am I do not know… But I hope to find My Newself or even My Oldself someday. In the meantime, while I search, I shall consider a different quote:

~ The word 'happiness' would lose its meaning if it were not balanced by sadness. ~

Carl Jung