I came back five days early from an aborted holiday up north, defeated by fairly continuous rain. Daniel and I were going to venture into a camping adventure on Fraser Island, Queensland – a magnificent World Heritage site. But roughing it in the wet is not my idea of fun, so we cancelled.
Maybe it was a combination of not having my plans realised, the unpleasant weather, and my husband suffering from a man-cold, but I fell into a foul mood that stuck around for a few days upon returning home.
I heard a comedian say that the difference between disappointment and depression is your level of commitment. I think that’s supposed to mean that you can actually get yourself out of a situation where you’re feeling let down, but that depression is a state where you tend to get mired.
I live in a beautiful rural paradise in a lovely home surrounded by wildlife, bush and gardens. I should have been happy to come home to such a comfortable environment, but I didn’t feel satisfied. I was still clinging to the thought of what a perfect holiday would have been like.
There was one more thing that happened in my sad saga: I became disappointed in myself for not being able to shake off my malaise. You could say that going down this line of thinking is one step lower on the scale of lowness.
Do you sometimes wish you were better at life than you are? Obviously, I do. I’ve done all this yoga practice for umpteen years and here I am with all my humanity intact.
What finally got me out of my disgruntlement was that I became less committed to listening to a conversation in my head about how things weren’t working than to noticing how they were – including how it’s just fine to be human.