Tag Archives: sadness

The story of the cracked pot

By Sacinandana Swami

A water bearer in India had two large pots, each hung on one end of the pole he carried across the back of his neck. One of the pots had a crack in it, and while the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water at the end of the long walk from the stream, the cracked pot arrived only half full. This went on every day for two years, with the bearer delivering only one and a half pots of water to his master’s house.

Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishment and saw itself as perfectly suited for the purpose for which it was made. But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its imperfection and miserable that it was able to accomplish only half of what it had been made to do. After two years of what it perceived as bitter failure, it spoke to the water bearer one day by the stream. “I am ashamed of myself and I want to apologize to you.”

“Why?” asked the bearer. “What are you ashamed of?”

“For the past two years, I have been able to deliver only half my load because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your master’s house. Because of my flaws you have to work without getting the full value of your efforts,” the pot said.

The water bearer felt sorry for the old cracked pot, and out of compassion he said, “As we return to the master’s house, I want you to notice the beautiful flowers along the path.” Indeed, as they went up the hill, the old cracked pot took notice of the sun warming the wildflowers on the side of the path. The pot felt cheered.

But at the end of the trail, the pot still felt bad because it had leaked out half its load, and again it apologized for its failure. The bearer said to the pot, “Did you notice that there were flowers only on your side of your path, but not on the other pot’s side? That’s because I knew about your flaw and took advantage of it. I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back from the stream, you’ve watered them for me. For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate my master’s table. If you were not just the way you are, he would not have such beauty to grace his house.

For the majority of my life I have heard this story every year at a martial arts camp, and it has always tugged on my heart. However, the older and sicker I get, the more it speaks to me.

Tonight, as I sat here trying to write the quintessential “Happy Thanksgiving!” post, I just couldn’t do it. I’m thankful, really truly I am, for so many things…I’m just feeling like a cracked pot right now.

It’s been a hard few weeks, I’ve been in a lot of pain and spending a lot of time in the “deep dark lyme place” of sad emotions.  I’ve had a lot of stuff going wrong with my heart, which I will write about one of these days when I have energy for that, that make me very stressed and angry.

Last weekend I had a flat tire on my car, so I set out to change it. I’d never done that before, but I knew technically how it should be done. With my sister’s help to lift things I managed it…and then was miserable for 3 whole days afterward. I just wanted to be able to do something for myself, to know that I could take care of myself in an emergency…and I did it, but I really should not have. I want to be able to do normal people things without hurting myself or feeling so sick I want to die.

I don’t want to feel like this anymore, I don’t want to be in pain anymore. I don’t want to be this sad person. I used to feel like a strong person, like I could cope with anything and still be a happy, positive person…not anymore. I’m angry that lyme and this pain have taken that away from me.


 

“When I was treating aids, none of the patients wanted to die, yet they did. Now, treating Lyme, the patients want to die because of the pain, but they usually can’t…Lyme takes you to the edge of death and leaves you there” Dr Jemsek.

Dr Jemseck gets it. That is exactly how I feel lately.


 

So tonight I will read the story of the cracked pot, and try to remind myself that I am simply a cracked pot and that somewhere there are flowers that I will be able to water with my flaws.

http://www.sacinandanaswami.com/en/s1a38/wisdom-stories/the-cracked-water-pot.html

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Pity party time

I don’t do this often, but tonight I am going to let myself.

This sucks.

I’m sick of feeling this way.
I’m sick of spending my evenings boiling coffee (see here for an explanation of that statement) and taking pills instead of out doing fun things like people my age should be.
I’m sick of spending more time in doctors offices than I do with my family (my ex husband used to hate that).
I’m sick of the pain. So much pain I don’t have words to describe it. The best I can do is brain numbing, gut wrenching, cant think about anything else, pain. It makes me want to cry, and throw up, and lay down right where i am and curl up in the fetal position and die. <—- I’m sick of that.
I’m sick of my body tic-ing uncontrollably, at the most inconvenient times.
I’m sick of worrying.
I’m sick of being scared to go on with my life; sick of doubting my abilities to do what I want to do.

I’m just sick, and tired; and sick and tired of it all.

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The curse of the psychologist’s brain

I have a degree in psychology. I have no idea what the hell I am going to do with it, but I have it; and I got it because I really enjoy psychology. My brain just naturally thinks in those terms (aka, I naturally “shrink” people, it’s just what I do). Which is all well and good, until it causes problems. Namely, I also naturally shrink myself. 

This means that I second guess every thought, every action, every decision…and then triple, quadruple, and whatever the hell comes next, guess it. 

See the problem now? 

I am so tired of never really knowing if I feel or think what I do because that’s genuinely how I think/feel, or because of some insane psychological “cause” my brain has created. 

Do I like a certain band because my parents dislike it? Because my friends like it? Or do I like it because like it? Am I attracted to someone because they remind me of someone else? Or am I just attracted? Am I afraid of water because something happened to me, that I have repressed memories of, to cause that? Or does it just freak me out? Do I feel a certain way because it’s how I feel? Or because I am running away from an unhappy marriage? Am I inventing feelings in my head because of some Freudian issue deep down? Or is that actually how I feel? 

It’s a curse, I tell you. 

I just want to feel something, and for once not question it. Not try to come up with some issue straight out of a Psychology 101 textbook that explains exactly why I am experiencing said feeling. Not subconsciously try to explain it away or rationalize it. 

I just want Freud, Maslow, Jung, Erikson, and all their friends, out of my head! 

Don’t mind me…just feeling a little crazy tonight. Welcome to my brain, it’s sooo much fun here, isn’t it? :/ 

 

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Off the bandwagon…again…

Ever since my marriage (and world) fell apart, and I essentially moved out of our apartment, going “home” causes quite an array of emotions. Some times when I go home I immediately feel as though I don’t belong there, like I am detached from that life, and am anxious to leave. Other times it hurts so intensely that all I can do is lay down in “our” bed and sob. 

Today I went home for 5 minutes and the resulting emotions were sadness and disappointment. I walked in the room and instantly saw it, the plastic shopping bag full of empty cans sitting in the middle of my bed…He is drinking again, and if he is drinking again that means he is most likely getting high again too…

I don’t know what to say about that, I don’t know what to feel about it. I’m not going to lie, I am surprised he lasted this long (4 months)…but I am also so incredibly sad that he made the choice to start again. As much as I kept telling myself not to, I was holding out just a little bit of hope that losing me and his entire world falling apart would be enough to make him realize that he needs to fix himself. 

I knew better, I knew better, I knew better. 

And yet here I am, disappointed again. I can’t tell you how many times I have felt like this. I’m sick of it. 

I’m sick of being hurt and disappointed. Sick of sitting around waiting for him to screw up again. Sick.

I guess it’s just more proof that I made the right decision; I told myself when I left that just because he was sober then did not mean he would stay that way, and lo and behold, I was right! I did sort of need an “oh yeah, THIS is why I left” reminder this week…I guess I got it…

I love him, and I genuinely want him to make himself better, for HIM. It doesn’t affect me anymore, his life is his own to screw up, but I just really don’t want him to screw it up. 

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Alone

I’m an introvert, painfully so at times, but I am also a people person (they just have to be the right people!). Sometimes I say that to people and they don’t believe me that I’m actually very introverted, because I don’t seem like it (apparently, so I’ve been told). I need people, a lot. I need to talk, and be around people, and share things. So much so that I guess I seem extroverted, but it’s really only with a small group of people. Between my family and couple of close friends, plus I have been meeting quite a few people on the internet lately, I find it much easier to cope if I can talk to someone. I feel like I annoy people with my incessant need to talk (or listen, or even just be silent together), but the truth is I just want to feel that I am not alone in the world.

I have been trying lately to get better at being ok alone, it’s something I’m going to have to get used to I guess, because it has not been easy.  The only word I know to really describe how I feel is isolated, yet I am really not isolated. I’m around people all the time, I talk to people like my boss, my mom or my grandma or people on the internet quite a bit. I just feel all alone, in life in general I guess.

I feel this almost crushing loneliness a lot of the time. I feel so alone that it is actually painful.

 

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Today I am…

Today I am sad. 

Lately I have felt as though I have been getting looks from people because I talk about my soon-to-be-ex; almost as if I should avoid all mention of him as if he were He Who Shall Not Be Named. I feel like people are uncomfortable speaking about him around me, and don’t understand how I can casually bring his name up in conversation and not be upset. Maybe this is just a coping mechanism for me (some sort of denial maybe?), maybe the anger and the hatred it is buried so deep inside me that I don’t even notice it, but I don’t think so.

I think I am just truly and honestly not angry with him. I don’t hate him, and I don’t think I ever will. I don’t have a problem discussing him, or bringing his name up in casual conversation; it doesn’t make me upset for people to mention him to me. When it comes down to it, he was a major part of my life for almost 5 years. He was my best friend, my other half, my beginning and ending. We did everything together, shared everything, SO many of my memories now involve him. For FIVE FREAKING YEARS. Now I know to some of you that seems like a blink of an eye, but to a 24 year old that is a long time…longer than I have ever given to any other significant other. The fact of it is I care about him, I always have and I always will. I don’t hold against him what happened between us; he has his demons and he tried, I mean really tried, to control them for me. He has lived a kind of life that I will never be able to understand, even though I tried really hard too. When it comes down to it we are just different people, with different goals, priorities and attitudes about life. So I am not angry. 

I am just sad. To think about him makes me sad, to think about how we used to be together makes me sad, to think about how the future will be for both of us makes me sad. Yes, I find new holes in my life every day that he used to fill; and I am crying as I write this. Yes, I bring him up in conversations, sometimes a lot; and yes, sometimes it makes me sad to talk about him…but not all of the time. Sometimes it makes me smile to think of the things we have shared, to remember the laughs and the good times (because there were a lot of them). Sometimes I bring him up in conversation, without even stopping to consider if I “should” be talking about him or not, and I like that. He is a part of me, and he always will be. Even if it makes me sad, I will talk about him, and it is ok for every one else to talk about him too. He is not a bad person, and I am not angry. I would rather remember him and the good things, and sit with the sadness as it is a normal part of this process…than bury him and every memory away somewhere in order to avoid feeling a little sad. 

So this is me giving you permission world, talk about him…it is ok. 

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