Skip to main content

Avoidance

I think if I were observed a year ago for a week, it would be common to see my juggling two or more books with three or more in the wings. My tastes are simple, but specific: I like books with vampires (I prefer the non-sparkly ones), werewolves, demons, ghosts, angels or witches--sampling some historic time periods--with clever banter and light romance -- (imagine how thrilled I was to find Jim Butcher's Dreseden Files series and Deborah Harkness' Discover of Witches--all my guilty pleasures rolled into each series). 

But suddenly, I cannot read.  I have 2 novels, supine on my bedside table...a thin layer of dust dulls the vivid covers.  Each time I see them I feel guilty--and confused. The last time I wrestled with depression (and it really does feel like that--a wrestling match.  Sometimes you are on top and strong, other times the heavy weight holds you down and you can barely breathe)  reading was my salvation.  If the stack of paperbacks on my nightstand dwindled to fewer than three I would make a panicked run to the library for more.  Books were my escape into another world, another time, another place.

Having the adult day treatment program at the hospital didn't allow me to hide. I was forced to examine parts of myself I didn't even know existed and recognize their impact on who I was and how I managed my self worth and relationships with others.

A book feels intimidating to me.  I know I have been hiding behind structuring my day so that there is no time to read. This is perhaps my interlude...where I have a moment to take a deep breath and move to a comfortable rhythm.  I think however, that I am stuck ----like a skipping record. Too afraid to move forward alone.   To continue to the journey. 

I had a great talk with a friend of mine today and she reminded me that being aware of what I do and how I do it is the beginning.  Rewiring your brain is a monumental task and can be a huge challenge.  And to top it all off....once you do get a handle on managing anxiety, anger, depression, self-compassion---you have to continue to practice it every, single, day.  This feels daunting today.  But I will try to get the schedule done I wrote about yesterday and budget in the time I need to show myself love and compassion.  I am worth it.  Not for my kids. Not so I can go back to work so we can buy cool things. But so I can have the tools I need to deal with whatever life throws at me, and so I can take back some control of how I act and react. 
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Mind the Gap

I have been browsing my writing. Just a few samples here and there. Noting the gaps--like the big one where I posted on the eve of 2020 not knowing a global pandemic would shut down the world and then didn't post again until just last week. Feels like that would have been a good time to write. During a pandemic.  Write about survival mode, collecting oldest and his gf from their rental to camp out in our basement bedroom for five months, the middle home as college was closed and R and I getting a week to figure out how to be online college instructors. There were days of washing groceries, yelling at my mom and step-dad to get their asses home from Florida before the boarder closed and scouring the internet for toilet paper and masks. It was exhausting and scary and bitterness flowed unhampered at every #qualitytimewiththekiddos" posting of crafts and puzzles and tiktok dances from those who found themselves at home, not working.  It was all hands on deck at our place wi...
Post a Comment
There is more good stuff--keep reading»

Keeping Afloat in Darkness - When Robin Williams is Gone

A few weeks ago Robin Williams was everywhere you looked. People were desperate for details; to find the one thing that assured them that his situation was so different from theirs that they are safe; that it could never be them. But if you suffer from depression, the suicide of such a brilliant, successful, individual; part of our lives for so many years and responsible for so many laughs; looks like a leak in your boat. A friend asked me, "Ok but no one knows what the future holds.  Could he not see that?" For someone drowning in the dark spiral of depression, there is no future. There is only now. There is only nothing.  The boat is gone.  You are under. It is not about your spouse or your friends or your kids or career or fans or dogs or anything.  When the darkness squeezes it is all about now.  And now is nothing.  It is bleak and empty and so dark, you cannot see a bottom, or edges or surface ---just darkness. "Some...
4 comments
There is more good stuff--keep reading»

Guidepost #7 Cultivating Play and Rest

The sky, dark blue fading to purple, then  pink and orange---in this instant --- it is hard to tell if it is the morning or night.  Perhaps in contradiction to the title, I am up early to write.  This is my playtime.  Writing is something that brings me both joy and a sense of accomplishment.  The Adult Day Treatment Program was my what kept me anchored to reality during the early months of my collapse.  Learning about anxiety, medications, depression, relaxation all made sense tome--had value--and could be immediately applied to my situation.  I took copious notes, I participated in class, I reflected, I did what I know best---see problem---tackle problem. What was difficult for me, was understanding the value of our "recreation" hour (a.k.a. crafts or games). I remember feeling a bit like I was in a movie or on some gag reel and I was the only one not in on the joke as people moved to pick up half painted wooden b...
Post a Comment
There is more good stuff--keep reading»