The Well

There are thoughts that arrive carrying their own shovel. A pocketful of dirt. A handful of nails.

"I'm never going to get through this." "Everything is ruined." "This is just who I am now."

Notice how those sentences come pre-sealed. No room. No air. The coffin lid is already down, and you hear the nails being hammered into it before you've had time to check whether what's inside is actually dead.

Here's an idea: add "maybe" at the end.

Not as argument. Not as affirmation. Not even as hope, if hope feels like too much to ask right now. Just as one nail popped back out. The coffin stays exactly where it is. The thought stays as bleak as it was. But it's not sealed.

"I'm never going to get through this—maybe."

You haven't lied to yourself. You haven't performed optimism you don't feel. But there's a pinprick of air now. Enough to let in a tiny stream of light. Just enough to examine the question you weren't allowed to ask before: is this thought even true?

You don't have to pry the whole lid off. You just have to leave one nail loose.

The Wild

"No feeling is final." — Rainer Maria Rilke
"There is a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in." — Leonard Cohen

"Not knowing when the dawn will come I open every door." — Emily Dickinson

The Way

This week, when a thought arrives with its shovel—when you hear yourself say something with a period already attached—add "maybe" at the end.

That's it.

You don't have to believe the maybe. You don't have to argue with the thought. Just leave one nail loose. It may pop out altogether.

And, as always, if you find it difficult to take this time for yourself (as I often do), do it for Rainer.

Do it for Leonard.

Do it for Emily.

Stay stark raving sane,

~ EA

P.S. Comments are open in the Asylum Inner Circle where members are already discussing their "maybes". If you'd like to join the conversation, the Circle is waiting for you here.