“Hello darkness, my old friend…”

“Hello darkness, my old friend…” -Simon and Garfunkel

I recently learned that I was a 4 on the enneagram. When I first read the description I was offended. “Melancholy my ass!” I’ve put in a lot of work to not be someone controlled by my emotions. But then I started reading more and listening to podcasts of other 4’s, and I got it. I like to go deep. Scary and dark thoughts don’t scare me, they are things to be explored. I’m always baffled by people who hide from their issues or feelings, and don’t enjoy a good cry. I actually pick movies (not all the time) based on their ability to make me cry. If I don’t cry at least once a month I feel clogged.

 But over all I don’t feel like these are things that define me as a whole. I would say that I spend much more time seeing the good and humor in life than anything else. But every once a while, probably a few times a year, this brooding darkness creeps over the horizon, and this song runs through my head for days “Hello darkness my old friend,I’ve come to talk with you again…” It’s here now. It’s been here for a good week. I used to think it was depression, but I’ve learned over the years that I just want to sit and be artist and alone. As much as it makes me feel heavy and sad, I enjoy it. That feels a little weird to say publicly, because people don’t get it. It’s like a dark enchanted forest. I want to know what’s hiding there. What will I discover about myself this time around? There is always a treasure of self discovery in the darkness. 

The feelings don’t appear out of thin air, obviously something is going on internally that my mind hasn’t caught up to. So when these times come it’s a reminder to my head that I’m not making space to connect with my heart. I’m cluttered, I’m tired, and for weeks I’ve been staring at my laptop from across the room wishing I had an hour or two to sit in silence and write. It’s my escape, my “me time”. But instead I’m worried about letting the laundry go one more day, running errands, cleaning, anything that would put any stress on anyone around me. Because somewhere inside me is a resting illness that is screaming that my job as a wife and mom living the freeloader life is to make sure everything runs seamlessly, smoothly, causes no one stress, and proves that I’m worth my weight in gold. Free time and me time are things to be earned. And the worst part is that no one knows, not until I break down and open my mouth. It’s partially my own damn fault!

But here’s the kicker, and I know I’m not alone in this. The line between loving sacrifice and martyr gets really blurred day in and day out. Carrying the weight of stress alone because you don’t want to stress out your spouse or steal their joy. Asking them to do things you know they don’t want to do, because their life is busy and stressful too, so you keep your mouth shut and tell yourself it’s not a big deal, you can handle it. Making meals that are insulted by your kids. It all slowly erodes away at your joy. At some point you look up and realize you’ve done it again. Your laying on the ground trying to be invisible, needless and there’s no more joy in the sacrifice. 

And there it is.  Meh.

I knew I’d get to the bottom of it if I started to write. So I guess this is the part where I start speaking up again. I do it to myself, little by little I devalue myself and without realizing it I start trying to prove myself by working harder and keeping my head down. But I need to bust my “NO” out again. The laundry will get folded on Friday instead of Thursday, because I’m going to write. If my family is having a bad day it’s not always going to be my fault. And I’m going to ask for what I want, because my family deserves the opportunity to choose ‘yes’ or ‘no’. And if they say ‘no’ it will not break me (for long).

Farewell darkness…I’m sure we’ll meet again.