Greetings from the Roller Coaster

Resurfacing once again out of the depths. It certainly is strange. Even though I’m healthy, I still have depressive mood swings. The grief of the world gets to me, and my personal irritations add to the aggravation. Soon enough those dark, clingy arms encircle me, nearly suffocating, and drag me d-o-w-n. Sensible as I am, and despite the wealth of experience collected, it is nevertheless a harrowing time. I know that it will soon pass, but that doesn’t really serve to alleviate the pressure.

Some things do help, though. I sleep as much as possible, don’t expect too much of myself, and simply accept that I need a break. It also helps to call a friend, be lazy and spend a Sunday afternoon in bed with a book, or go to the movies.

Lately I have recognized that old demon “perfection” sneaking stealthily back into my life. (Did it really ever leave?) Why is it such a challenge for me to simply enjoy life? For example, the other day I went into the recording studio to play & record a bunch of songs, from which I will narrow down the selection for the CD I want to record. I could have simply had a good time, enjoyed singing and playing, and that’s it.

Instead, I was nervous and concerned that I sound good, that the technician “like” the songs. And a few times I lost courage, thinking to myself: “That poor guy. Just imagine all the crap he has to listen to all day.” Well, get off it! It’s his job! It’s just like going to a therapist. You don’t pay for them to listen to how nice and wonderful you are, do you? Sure, sometimes we have sessions in which we feel the impulse to present ourselves that way, but that isn’t the point.

So I go in, can’t breathe, my voice is constricted and thin, my fingers shaky on the guitar strings, and I’m frustrated and dissatisfied with my efforts. This is ridiculous! Sometimes I wish I could have been the born optimist who is full of herself and convinced that she’s great, but I wasn’t.

If I was, I probably wouldn’t have been bulimic all those years. I was indoctrinated with the belief that everybody has to like me, and that I have to be nice and please everyone. And it almost goes without saying that everything I do has to be perfect and a success on the first try. Otherwise I’m not a good person.

I know, I know. You’re probably thinking: come ON! You are 45 years old. Why don’t you get it together and say you don’t care what others think of you? I mean, you’ve been proposing that now for 30 years, and still you are not free of it. Maybe that is your big task in life – to be true to yourself, regardless. Why is that so darn difficult?

Is it so difficult? What holds me back? I’ll let you know when I’ve got it figured out.