My friend and fellow blogger, Susan, of If You’re Going Through Hell Keep Going, calls her blog “my baby” and when I first heard this, I couldn’t quite fathom what she meant.
Now, I’m beginning to understand.
I came in a few minutes ago, simply to shut down all my applications, but before I did, I just wanted to check here to see if there was any “action” and by that I mean “comments.”
ABOUT PSYCHOLOGICAL RESILIENCE
Then, one thing led to another, and here I am again. I am thinking about my next serious post. All the stuff up now is window dressing and introductory stuff. Necessary, but not very important in the scheme of things.
I’m going to do some research on psychological resilience. Is it a buzz word or does it have meaning for us. Is there psychiatric resilience? I’m curious.
I never thought I was very good at handling change, but I’m beginning to believe we can change that, too. Though it takes practice and mindfulness and determination. Serious work and a certain ability to willingly suspend disbelief as English Romantic poet and philosopher William Taylor Coleridge wrote back in the 18th and early 19th Centuries.
Essentially, what he was talking about, I think, was “poetic faith.” That’s a real oversimplification, but the gist – and this is a stretch – is to envision where you want to be and then work like crazy to reach that destination. Even if you don’t arrive at the exact spot, invariably you’ll be closer than you were before and certainly farther ahead than when you started. You would be much better off, for sure, if you had taken another course and said, “I can’t do that, so I’m not even going to bother trying.”
LIVING LIFE BY “WILLING SUSPENSION OF DISBELIEF”
The point is, you have to believe in what is essentially imagined if you want to change. That’s the dynamic behind all change-making. Especially social change. To believe things can be better and then set your sights there and work like hell to that end. I’ve always lived my life that way. I’ve never considered myself to have a dis-ability with my mental illness. That’s never stopped me. I just blindly carry on.
Mind you, I’ve always imagined what it would be like to be six inches taller. I’ve “willingly suspended disbelief” and imagined that real hard. But nothing ever seems to budge me upward in that direction by a single centimetre. In fact, I suspect I’m growing in the other direction as I grow older. Either way, I seem to have reached my height in that department – 5-ft, 1-in – and no amount of willing suspension of disbelief is going to change that.
Now, Coleridge would be rolling in his grave if he had internet access and could see how I’m mangling the much more lofty meaning of his phrase and its literary intent.
So, on that pathetic little note, I’m now going to sleep, my head swimming with ideas about resiliency – there are about five million posts to explore on Google – and how I fared this last few days.
What we can learn about developing more resiliency as a coping tool? Can we change our resiliency quotient? I wonder.
It’s a good thing, too, that I’m seeing Dr. Bob on Monday. But I’ll be back here before then. You can be sure.
After all, I have a new “baby” to take care of.
Now, I’m off.
“Blessed are the cracked, for they shall let in the light.” ~ Groucho Marx