"The lesson here is simple yet profound: Wholesome, seasonal food prepared with love is potent medicine, spending time connecting with mother nature’s life force can help rekindle an individual’s will to live, having a reason or purpose to continue living is essential for healing, and last but far from least sharing quality time with loved ones when sick and recuperating, can transform the depressed mind back to a state of innocence, gratitude and awe of the mystery called life. In the end, real healing is the soul’s domain."
I find myself believing pretty much everything in that paragraph, these days. I believe such a life would certainly yield better benefits than regular and expensive trips to typical doctors, a method I tried for two years with very disappointing results.
The diet I've been put on by my current doctor is helping. The rest of the recommended lifestyle is going to be harder to come by. I'm not moving to a Greek island any time soon (and even if I did, I wouldn't have a community and childhood friends waiting there for me). All I have is Facebook, which sucks. There are days when I hate everyone on my Facebook feed, whether they're posting about how happy or how miserable they are. I hate it all. I know it's unfair but I'm not exactly being rational all the time.
I miss the days when I saw real friends on a regular basis, days of talking for hours. I find myself wondering now whether those days happened just because we were young and had nothing better to do. Everyone is quite busy these days, and unwilling to inconvenience themselves. Of course I am the most unwilling of all, and I can barely make it across the street, so everything is an inconvenience, so I have no right to expect anything. I should be grateful for the occasional Messenger exchange, or an hour or so of face time.
Of course there are exceptions. The ones closest to me. I don't know why I sometimes find myself wanting or expecting more. I have more in terms of companionship than most at my age, I should say. We can't maintain the web of relationships we had n our teens and twenties indefinitely. And it's not as if I don't value my solitude as well. This is all just perhaps frustration with my circumstances finding expression in different ways.
I find myself thinking of the phrase "sick and tired," It is often used to mean "frustrated" or "exasperated," and not to denote actual illness, though perhaps it should be. I am sick and tired of my circumstances. I am sick and tired of expectations I cannot meet. I am sick and tired of other people's agendas. I am sick and tired of losing my enthusiasm and abilities for the few things that are still important to me. I am sick and tired of this life.
I have to find some way to that island. Metaphorically speaking.