Service, Depression, and Value

I deal with depression daily. A slight change in plans sets me off, and makes it difficult to get anything done for the day. Lately, I have been thinking about what I want to be when I grow up. How can I be of service? I’ve tried a lot of things. I’ve been a gardener, landscaper, teacher’s assistant, shop assistant, massage therapist and Reiki practitioner, childcare provider, waitress, and bartender.

I am also an author and artist. I’ve published several paranormal fiction novels, one children’s book, and one short essay in the spiritual self-help field. I’ve had several websites selling prints of my artwork.

Nothing sticks.

When I was little, I wanted to be a dolphin trainer. And a dancer, a musical theatre actress on Broadway (I wanted to sing Christine in Phantom. And yes, back then, I could hit those high notes.) I wanted to be a pediatrician, or a veterinarian.

Nothing stuck.

I watch my beautiful son, so determined since he was little to be a firefighter. He’s always researched and done what he needed to do along his path. He’s a lifeguard for the city now, getting his EMT in his senior year of high school, as well as a certification in marine rescue. He does ride-alongs with various fire departments, EMS services, and harbor patrol whenever he can. He’s really good at it. He has an excellent head under pressure and a manner that even the hardest drug addict responds well to. He’s so going into the right field. And he loves it. I ask him every time he comes home from a ride-along if he is still sure it’s what he wants to do, and he adamantly replies that it is. I’m so proud of him. He inspires me.

The voice behind the depression has talked me out of almost everything I’ve ever thought about doing. (Except nursing—actual people talked me out of that one. Every nurse I spoke to, as well as the head of the nursing department at the college I graduated from.) Does that mean I haven’t wanted any of it enough? Am I weak? Useless? What do I have to give that anyone would ever want? How can I truly be of service to the Divine and the world around me? I have few practical skills—nothing I’d want to make a career out of. My grandparents sent me to several career advisors. I was put through every aptitude test known to man. The result was always ‘artist.’

Ok, so, how do I serve the world through art? People tell me they love my artwork, but no one buys it. People do buy my books, but the more I write them the less I want to continue. I feel as if there is something more important, something of more value that I could be doing. I thought about art therapy. I even applied to a program, and got accepted. The dean of the department spent a whole phone call telling me that after I graduated I should teach others instead of practice. Then life happened, and I never started the program.

I’ve thought about becoming a life coach, with a spiritual focus. The voice tells me that I don’t have the experience, or the background, to be a coach. Who would want to listen to me, to work with me? I can barely handle my own life. Other coaches I’ve worked with have told me that you only need to be one step ahead of the person you’re supporting through your coaching work. I was what I’ve called the ‘camp councilor’ or ‘therapist’ for my friends when I was younger. They loved to come and tell me their problems. No one wanted to hear mine.

Can anyone relate to this?

The thing is, the only thing I have ever wanted enough was to be a mother to my son. I think I’ve done pretty darn well at that. He’s an awesome person. I get told that all the time. People tell me I’ve done well with him. I’ll always be his mother. I’ll always be here for him. But he’s almost eighteen, now. He’s moving on with his life. He doesn’t need me the same way a younger child would. So, what do I do with my life?

Sometimes it feels as if I am stuck on a tilt-a wheel at a carnival. I feel happy, and have a path in mind. Or I’m just happy. Then the depression comes back and slams into me. It knocks me over and curls me into a ball. It feels as if nothing is ever going to change. How can I break out of this cycle?

Lately, I’ve been expanding my daily spiritual and excercise practices. That feels really good to me. I’ve been reading more about spiritual practices and ways to improve my life. I’m reading about Hal Elrod’s Miracle Morning practice. I first heard about this through Dashama Konah’s Miracle Morning yoga practice on the Daily Yoga app. Lately, I’ve been taking it more seriously. It really does help me to feel better about myself and my day. I have also begun cutting back on the fiction I read and the t.v. I watch. I had got into the habit of watching several hours at night while crocheting. I’ve been having a hard time sleeping. Now, I am turning the t.v. off sooner, if I watch. I am listening to audio books or podcasts, and will continue to do that instead. I am doing yoga before bed, as well as meditation and journaling. I feel better. I’ve only just started. I am excited to see how it works out for me. I feel lighter, more clear, so far. And it’s only been a few days. Go, me!

I started down this rabbit whole by asking myself how I could find a career or start a business in which I can truly feel of service, be happy, and make an excellent income. I don’t know the answer, yet. The voice of depression is still there, telling me it will never happen. I don’t believe that. Maybe I’m just on an upswing. But I choose to believe that there is something out there, some way to feel of value while giving back to the world as much as possible. I will continue to question the voice of depression that tells me I’m not good enough. I will continue to try new things, to take care of myself, to do things that enhance my happiness. I will continue to find people who are succeeding in ways that resonate with me to look up to. I will continue to be inspired by what I find. I will find an answer. I will stick with it when I do. I will remember to be kind to myself, gentle with myself physically as I am still healing and sometimes try to do too much, resulting in more pain. I will move forward. One step, one minute, five minutes at a time. Learning, experiencing, creating. I am here, therefore I am worthy.

And so it is.

Bright Blessings,

Hetty Cate