epiphany on epiphanies

I think I hate epiphanies.

Webster’s defines epiphany as ” a moment in which you suddenly see or understand something in a new or very clear way“.  I am finding that epiphanies are typically not something I want to admit to or even consider.  This is because epiphanies need to be different than the way I am currently living.  If you think about it, I suppose it makes sense.  If it were in complete agreement with the way I am – it wouldn’t be “a new or very clear way” …  My most recent epiphany is that I have choices on how I live – how I face the day.

This comes to a boil when talking about depression and anxiety.  They are mainstays of my existence.  A sad state of affairs to be sure, but without them what would I have to complain about?  How can I continue to knock myself back into the gutter and convince myself what a loser I am if I’m not depressed?  But if I have a choice in the matter … that just confuses the issue more.  I have a choice.  So I don’t need to be depressed.  But I am depressed.  I’m just a loser – why am I depressed if I can choose not to be….  and on, and on, and on — you can see this is a repetitive loop that does nothing but “spiral down to depressive thinking”.

Had a therapist once tell me that I hold so tightly onto my depression and anxiety because this is the only life I know.  To venture beyond these walls is frightening, daunting, and more than I wish to deal with.  I always answered that even if it were true, I don’t have what it takes to cope with that dramatic a change.  So … in line with my newest way of looking at things … he was right.  ACK.  I quit seeing him because he was always wrong, always placing himself higher than me, making me feel inferior, etc.  If he was right I need to re-examine a LOT of past decisions.

Not that I can change past decisions – because I can’t.  But all this time I’ve thought I had no choice … I know, I know.  “Shut up, Marc and get on with living.”

I was wrong.  I don’t think I hate epiphanies.  I KNOW I hate epiphanies.


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