Mental Health on Rachel Joi

finding purpose

Mon, 09 Oct 2017 10:02:00 +0000

I like my employer, and I like my new career as a software tester, and though I strive to be excellent, when I leave work, I do my best not to think about it until the next day. I’ll sometimes try to learn a new skill or read a book related to software testing, or write a blog post, but software testing is not what gives me purpose in life. I grew up thinking I was going to be exceptional. Maybe every kid does. Maybe it’s my generation. And though I’m a little disappointed that I’m not running the world or making a widely known name for myself, I’m really happy with the life I’ve built. My marriage is nearly perfect - we have similar goals, complementary interests, a genuine enjoyment of conversation and companionship with each other, and a desire to see the other one succeed and be happy. I’ve found solid friends and fun groups to be around. I am getting better at singing and am truly enjoying it. I always have a project or two going, usually knitting. I’m very involved at church and am trying to get more involved in my community. I’ve taken up rock climbing. My depression is mostly kept at bay, though some days, it’s hard to get out of bed. But is this my purpose in life? I hope I bring joy to others, I think I inspire people in some way, and I’m pretty happy right now, so is this what I can hope to achieve? I try not to be selfish, though that is my nature, and I can be rather self-indulgent some (a lot) of the time. I’ve been looking into ikigai and hygge - it seems that a lot of people are seeking purpose (and contentment) in life. I don’t have one all-consuming passion that makes me happy to get out of bed (and pays me), but I do have rituals and little things that bring meaning to everyday life. This is a hard concept for me. My life is pretty ordinary viewed from the outside, I think, but it feels special from the inside. Where do you find purpose? How do you define it?

insecurity and bravery

Mon, 26 Jun 2017 08:00:00 +0000

My husband won’t sing in front of me. He’s taking voice lessons with a great teacher (Tyler Kofoed, if you’re interested), and he says he’s getting better, but he won’t sing for me. Part of it is intimidation, because I’ve been taking lessons and just singing a lot longer, but part of it is massive insecurity and not wanting to reveal that he’s not great at something. I didn’t realize it was actually a thing until he nearly had a panic attack after he almost got up the nerve to let me warm him up the other day. He calls me brave. It’s not a word I generally claim, because I think I would back down from a physical altercation, and I’m not sure I would rush into a burning building to save cats. But in some ways, I am brave. I ignore the part of my ego that cares what other people think, and when I want to do something, I just don’t give a damn about other people. Take climbing. It had been over ten years since I last went climbing (indoors, but still). Ten years and, oh, 50-60 pounds. My harness didn’t really fit anymore. Did you know that shoes feel tighter when you’ve gained that much weight? But I decided to go climbing at a gym here with a friend. We started with bouldering (stupid idea, but I didn’t have a harness that fit), and I fell off the wall. Many times. At one point, I fell on my way walking to the wall. Yeah. I shut down the part of me that said I was too big and clumsy and weak and lazy and all manner of bad things, and I made some progress. And then a little more the next time. And when I finally got a harness that fit, I got a little ways up a wall a few times. And then more. And now, I’m still not very good, and not very strong, but I’m getting better each time, and no one has even tried to say that I’m too big to climb, or anything negative at all. I’m really insecure about most everything. I know I’m smart, but I’m not doing big, important things with it. I know I’m a good musician, but I’m not in top-notch ensembles. I know I’m kind and funny, but I’m sometimes unsatisfied with my friendships. I could create a very long list of the things that I am insecure about, but you get the idea. My pride and my bravery and very closely related to my insecurity. It comes from deciding that my life would be better for having tried something, or for letting something go, than to stick with the old ways of doing things. And once I decide that, the external naysayers get the same treatment as the internal naysayers: I ignore them, or, at least, try to ignore them.

living with a mood disorder

Mon, 29 Aug 2016 08:00:00 +0000

For a long time, I thought I had “ordinary” depression. It was terrible at times, though I managed to function. My first bout of it was in fifth grade, and I would deal with it every couple years after that. I would cry easily, think dark thoughts pretty much constantly, and find little joy in activities. I was hospitalized once when the medication I was on proved ineffective, but I quickly found a medication that I responded to well and stayed on for the next ten years.