“Can you describe what these attacks feel like?”
I pause. It’s like trying to describe the flavor of vanilla. You have to use comparison to paint an accurate picture. Otherwise, you will be misunderstood. No room for that when dealing with mental health.
“You know like when your blood sugar drops out, and then you start shaking and feel really weak? It’s like that but in my brain. It feels like the floor opens up beneath me. And just when I get my legs steady, it drops again. I can’t breathe. It’s dark. It’s overwhelmingly dreadful. It’s a void where there is no hope.”
“How long do these attacks last?”
“About two hours.”
I tell my psychiatrist how I know I’m going to have an attack based on how I feel in the morning. If it’s going to be a bad day, I can feel a slow decline into the pit as the day progresses. When I finally land in the hopeless void, I’m stuck there until I can stabilize and begin to climb out. Usually, just being held by my wife grounds me enough so that I can begin the struggling ascent.
It’s a strange thing watching your hope evaporate, slipping through your fingers like sand. The more you tighten your grip, trying to hold onto it, the more it escapes. It has become clear to me: it is not possible to manufacture a false sense of hope. It must be genuine, or it is merely wishful thinking.
If we want to live (and we most certainly do), we must have a purpose. We must have a reason. There must be more. Not necessarily that there must be more to life. Life can be (and perhaps ought to be) pleasantly simple. No, I mean there must be more of a reason for living life. So you must have something greater than yourself to devote yourself to. But what is the highest thing we can be devoted to?
At first, this must be something we must individually decide. No one can tell you what your higher purpose is. If you a spiritual person, your beliefs can guide you to your greater purpose. But purpose, whatever you decide it is, is ultimately something you do. It is something that defines why you exist and continue to exist. What are you supposed to do, then? There is one answer for all of us. It is that one thing we were designed for:
Ultimate good.
Whatever you do, it must be bringing goodness forth. Again: it cannot be manufactured — it must come from your sense of higher purpose. But when you are lost, spiraling in a void of hopelessness, you might lose sight of your purpose. You might forget what “good” looks like because you can no longer see any good around you.
When you are in such a mindset, stop everything you are doing and find a quiet place. Sit still, alone and be disconnected from the world. Then, in your silenced mind, lift your eyes above your situation. It may take some work. Give it time. ask yourself to remember that others are suffering too. Ask yourself: what would benefit me in my suffering at this moment? Perhaps it would be receiving a gesture of kindness, a thoughtful letter, or just a few words of encouragement. Now think: even in your suffering, could you do this for someone else? Could you find one person and share goodness with them?
What greater good could there be? Despite your suffering, you bring Light to another person who is also suffering.
Though goodness is the weapon of Light we use to fight against darkness, you cannot sit in that darkness and determine to give goodness to yourself. Hope and goodness and light cannot be manufactured! But how often we try! No, goodness must be given away. This is how you will also invite it back into your life. Giving away goodness is also a gift to the giver.
This is how hope is kept alive in our hearts. We have a purpose and that purpose is goodness. And by bringing goodness to others, we fulfill our sense of calling. Our existence finds depth and meaning. And it is not just for today. It provides a vision for the future, potential good that we might do. And that is hope for each new day and an opportunity to bring more goodness into this world.
It is a beautiful paradox. When we, despite our pain, bring hope and Light to others, we receive it back. We often receive back even more than we gave out. It is not a dismissal or avoidance of your pain. It is framing it properly. If we are only aware of our personal tragedies, the pain and dread will overwhelm us. We must look outside of ourselves, hard as it is.
I am not the only person I know who is sick. Many of my loved ones are struggling (or have struggled) with daunting challenges. The pandemic has destroyed many lives and livelihoods. None of us are immune to tragedy. As I reflect on that, I have begun to feel a sense of selfishness creeping in. As each day passes, I am more aware of the increase of focusing only on myself and the imbalance that this might create. I must remember that in all things there is an Ouroboros at the center. Yes, I must allow people to care for me. I must care for myself. But I must also care for others. To the extent that I am able, I must bring froward hope and life and Light and love. That is the highest, ultimate good.
You may be sick. You may be depressed. Anxious. Lost. But today you are alive. And as long as we are breathing, when we breathe in, we take in life. And with each breath, we can bring forward life to others. And life will return to you. Like sand, it is best carried with open hands instead of clenched fists. So I open my hands. I am determined to carry life wherever I go. And where there is life, there is hope.
Joel, you say that goodness is something that we give away and it finds its way back to us. I think that is true. God blesses us when we bless others. Thank you for sharing with us.
Finding the good in pain is as noble a purpose as I can imagine.