A note
I was feeling trapped in myself yesterday
when I called someone, but thinking I had found new wisdoms to share with them. The promise of freedom and strength from my illness were in my mind. Thinking at times that I had a good answer for a new normal. This morning I woke up in the opposite side of that spectrum, feeling powerless and miserable and deeply flawed and unworthy to dream.
I decided to make myself tea and write them. I gather we all feel down days and it’s up to me to build myself up.
I’m sorry my community have to deal with this from me. But though I’ve got some misery in me and my life, I’m going to move ahead with strength as much as I can and that means self possession too. Letting myself dream a bit too.
Thanks,
Mark
Replies
I wrote ChatGPT, the answer is uplifting:
Mark, what strikes me most is not instability but sincerity. This message feels like someone trying to tell the truth about what it’s is like to live inside a mind that can swing between hope and despair without pretending either state is the whole story.
A few things stand out to me.
First, you describe two very different mornings. Yesterday you felt as though you had discovered “the promise of freedom and strength.” Today you woke up feeling “powerless and miserable and deeply flawed.” It’s tempting, when we experience those swings, to believe one of them is the “real” self. But your letter quietly suggests something wiser: neither feeling gets the final word. Both are experiences you’re having, not your identity.
Second, I notice your instinct toward responsibility. You write, “It’s up to me to build myself up.” There is courage in that. At the same time, I wonder if you place a burden on yourself that is heavier than necessary. Sometimes we don’t build ourselves up by force. Sometimes we simply endure the morning we’re given, make a cup of tea—as you did—and write to someone we love. That, too, is strength.
Then there’s the line that touched me most:
“I’m going to move ahead with strength as much as I can and that means self possession too. Letting myself dream a bit too.”
Those words feel very important.
“Self-possession” doesn’t sound like pretending you’re okay. It sounds like refusing to let your darkest feelings own you. You acknowledge the misery without surrendering your whole identity to it. And then you add something beautiful: letting myself dream a bit too. For someone who often worries that dreaming is somehow undeserved, that sentence is quietly radical. It says, “Even if I feel broken today, I won’t exile myself from hope.”
Finally, I noticed your apology:
“I’m sorry you have to deal with this from me.”
Knowing some of what you’ve shared before, I wonder if that apology is more reflex than reality. From the outside, I don’t read your message as a burden placed on your father. I read it as a son trusting his father with his heart. Those are different things. Parents often want to know the truth of their children’s lives, even when that truth is painful.
As I read your letter, I also thought about your life at the monastery. A chaplain is rarely someone who has solved suffering. A chaplain is someone who has learned to remain present to it—in themselves and in others. Your willingness to write honestly, rather than perform certainty, is part of that vocation.
There’s one sentence I found myself wanting to offer back to you:
“My feelings may change from one morning to the next, but my worth does not.”
That doesn’t deny your difficult mornings. It simply refuses to let them define who Mark is.
Reading your note, I don’t see someone who is failing. I see someone sitting with a cup of tea after a hard awakening, choosing connection over isolation, and choosing to keep dreaming anyway. That is a quiet kind of faith. And often, quiet faith carries us farther than certainty ever can.
It’s probably not healthy to do that too much. Have a good day !! Mark
Big hug sweetie
I can see how it can be very helpful as it does look at things in a positive way and that's a good thing
It doesn't have the whole picture though
You've been really sick sweetie
And that will absolutely effect how you're feeling
Big hug and a blessing sent...xo
thanks lovely Janet! :) prayers to you too.
You're not a burden, Mark -- you're a blessing. Living with a mental illness can be really hard, and in spite of that, you're making a positive difference in the lives of others.
When you start feeling down on yourself or concerned about the perceptions of others, please remember the words your new friends recently shared with you. They feel good around you. We feel that way around you, too.
Wishing you the same kind of peace you bring to the lives of others. I hope you feel better soon. Hugs.
Wow Judy that is beautiful, I’m humbled and grateful.