There is a a down side to epiphanies on occasion. They’re important, and they often change your life for the better, but they have consequences. Often, when you experience one of them, you can get what amounts to an emotional hangover.
I don’t know what the psychiatric community would call it, but it’s the same kind of response that happens when you lance a boil. Essentially, while it is healthy to have those experiences, the would had to be cleaned out, and that means an open wound. And sometimes you have to get it cleaned out more than once, if the root of it is deep inside.
On the positive side, the backlash isn’t depression. Not that my depression has gone away, but that it is staying in what amounts to a background noise – a loud one, but still background, like hearing a jackhammer or a chainsaw outside your window.
Unfortunately, that means it is pressing the button on the anxiety.
I get angry at the end of my cycles of both depression and anxiety. It is as if my brain is saying, “You’re a dumbass. Pull your shit together and move on.” But, I’m noticing that the anger that is from anxiety is much more insidious than the rage that depression seems to cause.
The anxiety seems to creep up on me, starting out as low-level annoyance or irritation. Thing is, it’s irritation about everything. While I’m stuck in it, I can’t seem to concentrate on one single thing. I try, and I use the assorted psychological tools I’ve been taught, but it doesn’t seem to make a dent in the emotion.
And I have a crap-ton of old wounds that have festered for far too long. Things that have been holding me back from the life I want to lead. Fear is only one of those things – there is all sorts of stuff left behind that also need to be dealt with.
So, while yes, I’m putting my big-girl panties on, it’s not to listen to that internal critic that wants me to ignore the emotional shit. It’s to finally take stock and take care of those wounds so I can truly move on and let them develop scars instead of leaving them as open wounds.