Welcome to Tune In Tuesday!
Today you are in for a real treat.
I have Holly here from if i were really skinny...
She is one of those cute little delightful girls
that I picture living in the Big Apple itself-
one of those girls that you would love to be friends with in real life.
She is an icy cold Diet Coke drinking,
Gossip Girl watching,
deep thought thinking,
Read her post here and then head on over to her place and
I think you'll agree that her honesty is refreshing
and her openness intoxicating.
Thanks, Holly, for teaching us about the trees.
After a little exchange with a coworker a few weeks ago that led to the conclusion that some of us are just living on hope (deep water cooler discussions at the PR firm, no?), I’ve been thinking about it more and more.
In high school and college I had what we Mormons would call “the opportunity” to experience depression.
But . . .
Oh how enlightening it was.
I remember getting the tree advice in high school.
The tree advice?
The tree advice.
Someone I trust told me that when things seem bad, that it’s ok to tell yourself, “You know what? Tomorrow’s going to be better.” But she also encouraged me to look for something small that brought me joy. She remembered a hard time in her life when just seeing a beautiful tree in her neighbor’s yard brought her a little happiness. This simple beautiful thing was her bright spot in her present to tide her over to her happier future.
There were years where I had to do this a lot. It’s complicated enough to be a woman, without adding depression to the mix. It’s a widespread issue though, and I’d bet that plenty of you know what I mean.
Can I get an amen?
So taking the tree advice into consideration and taking my Prozac every day, I looked for “trees” wherever I could, using the chemical powers of my little pill.
Tree number one: My Prozac pills were a perfect shade of Tiffany box blue.
But even with the pretty capsules, The O.C. and large, icy Diet Cokes, I had plenty of days where I honestly felt that the only reason I was still showing up for class/church/social engagements was the hope that someday in the future, I would feel better.
Well, the prayers and the pills worked. I’ve been a happy girl for the past three years and I feel oh-so-optimistic about my life.
A veritable forest of a life.
But still I find myself balancing my perspective with hope for the future and joy in the now. I think that like my coworker, I live on hope.
But I keep looking for trees.
I think that in a huge way, my depression taught me how to be happy. I’m gentler with myself and push myself harder. I allow myself my sad days and worry, and I make no apologies for my joys. We live in a world where people punish themselves for their imperfections to the point that they become crippled to improve on those weaknesses. We walk among people who believe they don’t deserve to be happy. We all have friends or loved ones who believe their lives will be complete once they have the looks or things or money that they think they ought to have – things they see other people with.
It’s madness, people. If we’re looking into the future to a day when we’ll finally be happy, that day may never come.
You do realize that . . . right?
If we can’t find any trees now, why do we think we'll be able to find them later?
But if we find enough trees . . . who knows? Today could be the happy future we’ve been hoping for all along.