For the past several weeks I have had a terrible, and debilitating case of the mind flu (it's much worse than the swine flu).If you who have never experienced it, it is my sincere wish that you never do....for if a mind is a terrible thing to waste, then a wasted mind is a terrible thing to have. It involves racing thoughts, and an inability to focus(refocus) on anything constructive. Try as I might, the negative thoughts, feelings and anxiety come back tenfold every time I think I have won; I begin to realize this is a never ending lifelong battle. It's relentless. A military type siege on my sanity. I feel trapped, boxed in, claustrophobic and frozen. I try to move "in spite of" this chaotic mind, that is doing its best to cripple me but at times it hurts just to breath. The more I try to understand it, the worse it becomes. All attempts make me feel like Sisyphus, and my mind screams "Give up"; I hear it in my head over and over again, after all that would be easier. In the face of adversity isn't it always easier to give up? Certainly when I am pushing my body far beyond anything I thought I could do, it would be way easier to give up, to quit, but I don't do it then. I do one more rep, one more pull on erg, I get back on the bar and pull myself up despite agonizing lactic acid build up and the fact that my arms/legs feel like cement. I continue to push myself past the breaking point, so why does the voice in my head dominate my thoughts and cripple me now? Why are all the negative thoughts bouncing around in my head faster than atoms in the Hadron supercollider?
I try to rally around a lesson I learned from Charlie Plumb some time ago. That very often we build our own prisons, and the six inch prison cell b/w our ears is every bit as debilitating and painful as any real prison could ever be. Everything we do is a choice, and if we want, we can choose to give up , after all its just one more choice. However if we do give up we are letting go of the last of the human freedoms, which is to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way as Viktor Frankl once said. I try to make that choice, to choose my attitude, but fail. I tell myself that at the very least by trying I have made a choice, and have not given up that last of human freedoms. And yet the supercollider continues to spin, in a very real way creating a black hole that is sucking me in. As I sit on the event horizon of this abyss of misery, despair and loneliness I try to recall anything that makes me happy--I try to choose. I recall my nephews laugh, my nieces immeasurable cuteness, or even her smile. I battle back; I make a choice. The pull doesn't let go, and I'm fucking exhausted. I lay here and wonder why no matter how long I spend staring at, and talking to, the ceiling it offers me nothing in return. And now I wait, for the next round to begin.
