But First...

I posted recently about a family member who has recently begun, outwardly at least, experiencing anxiety and depression.  


The update is thus:  said elderly member of the family has been to a Doctor and is receiving help.  Specifics I do not know, but I do know that it's being attended to.  I still feel deep and everlasting shame that I was not able to help.  That won't be muted.  


The story takes a sadder turn now.  The person in question has enjoyed better than average health for someone of that age.  Someone who has been spry, independent, and quite frankly...young.  This person now appears to be approaching a different phase in life.  Physical frailty is becoming more of an issue.  There was a fall.  Then there was another fall.  Then there was a worse one where muscles were pulled , but thankfully nothing was broken.  We all know that's now likely just a matter of time.


For someone who has reached the age this person has, and to have one's health and mind in good stead, we are all supposed, I think, to not be surprised when the downturn starts.  We are supposed to be wistful but accept the transition to the late stages of life as the natural order of things.


But you know what?  No matter how normal, natural, and expected this is... it's still heartbreaking.  Perhaps that too is natural.


What's unnatural is the amplification of the sadness caused by my affliction.

Lunacy

Lunacy is an interesting word.  It originates from the belief that the full moon can cause behavioral changes in a person.  Hence LUNA-cy.  Centuries ago, "lunacy" was a legal defense for the charge of murder.  "The Moon Made Me Do It" was apparently the defense of the time.  Or, people would wait for the full moon to exact revenge on an enemy as they knew there was a better chance of getting away with it...which is probably the more likely explanation.


I bring this up now as the full moon occurred last night.  Anecdotal evidence is everywhere that the full moon causes...well... lunacy.  Hospital workers, police officers, firepersons, will all tell you that the full moon night is a wild time.


There doesn't seem to be any scientific evidence of the moon's effect on humans, rather it seems to be all legend.   I say "seems to be" because I "seem to be" affected by the full moon every month.  The scientific, logical person in me scoffs at the thought.  "Pffft", it says.  And yet every full moon, I "seem to" have a really low point that usually centers around loneliness.  


It's the strangest thing.    


I begin to pine for companionship, become greatly sad that I an alone in the world, and I head down into a sad despondent slump.  More often than not, I don't even think of the moon causing it until I look up at night, see the bright white ball, and go, "ahhh that explains it".  It's actually kind of rare to see the full moon here as the climate involves a lot of clouds and rain, but if it's a clear night and I look out and see it, I have that "a-ha" moment.  The night before last was that moment, when I was becoming very sad and desolate indeed, and looked out and saw the just-about-full moon..."ah.  here we go again."


It's conflicting.  The logical side of me is busy "pfft"ing, while the realistic side of me is valiantly arguing the case, "Just look - you are sad, and there is a full moon.... AGAIN".  


Am I imagining things?  Is there an effect on humans caused by lunar cycles?  Is it all nonsense?  Am I secretly a werewolf? 


Real or not, at least the moon is waning now and I can probably count on a swing upwards.


Awoooo.

Regrets, I've Had A Few

Anyone who says, "I have no regrets" is quite frankly, lying.


Perhaps they are sociopathic and have no feelings at all.  Oh but that's rather harsh.  I know... let's just give everyone the benefit of the doubt and say anyone who says, "I have no regrets" is slightly self-delusional.


We've all done things we regret.  We hurt someone's feelings.  We said something that unintentionally embarrassed someone.  We lost our temper.  We stole a gumball from the corner store as a kid.  Something.  Doesn't need to be a big thing, although goodness knows many of us have some whoppers in our past.  We all have things in our past that we wish had turned out different.  That's regret.


The constructive thing to do is look at regrets as lessons.  Life lessons to be learned.  Look back at something that happened and say, "OK that was bad, but here's how I would handle that next time".  Learn.  Grow.


Of course, that's all well and good for someone without a mental illness.  "Normies," as the interesting folks over at Mixed Nuts call them.


For someone like, oh say....Me, it's much harder to translate a regret into a lesson.  I tend to dwell on things.  things that may have happened 20 years ago... or more.  As I have discussed before, I also sometimes "catastrophize" things.  Combine those two things and you've got a recipe for more darkness.  A fragment of a memory of something that happened in high school and has very likely been forgotten by all others concerned, can have a physical effect on me.  When one pops up, I can feel it hit me like a briskly swung pillow.  I usually openly and physically flinch when something like that enters my addled mind.  It's quite ridiculous, in fact.


I read someplace that learning to deal with past trauma (real or imagined) involves a very important step.  One has to learn to remember the event without re-living the event.  That's key.  I just don't know how to do it at all.  Been trying that one for years.  I still remember and re-live stupid things that happened ages ago.  It's like I am a skipping record that repeats the same part over again without getting to the end of the song.


In the end, I have to remember that regrets represent moments that something went wrong.  To not learn from these moments would be something to regret even further.

"Regrets, I've had a few, but then again, too few to mention"