This week I had an appointment with Talk Doc, my therapist/psychologist.
All this research about personality types and radical acceptance had me feeling purrrr---it----tteeeee goood and even as I drove to her office I was thinking:
What will we talk about?
The last time I had seen her was early March, feeling like a wet dog, soaked in self-doubt, dripping fear and self-loathing about my inability to manage my new job role after the IT manager quit and I needed to pick up his tasks. She assured me I was NOT crazy and that the expectations work had set were indeed, unrealistic.
It had been two months since then, so I caught her up.
The first two weeks I cocooned and watched a lot of TV. Then.....
...I bought a new van, painted and redecorated almost all the rooms in our house, (built a LOT of IKEA furniture), refinished our deck, donated two dozen bags of clothes and misc 'crap' to local charities----emptied, fixed, painted and refilled our shed----painted all the outdoor furniture, bought a new van, started and abandoned three online courses, researched several vacation possibilities, GONE on two short vacations and one baseball tournament weekend away, searched for new jobs and volunteering opportunities, dyed my hair blond, seen my naturopath a few times, had acupuncture, had massage therapy, gave up yoga and morning meditation, got up early every day and researched for and wrote a dozen blog posts and spent quite a bit of money.
I was busy!
I was tackling self-discovery!
I was productive!
I was valuable!
I was talking REALLY REALLY FAST.....!!!!!!
Waaaaaiiiit a minute.
Was I reading?
No...I can't focus that long. I keep jumping up to do stuff.
Was I eating well?
Sure! Lots of green smoothies---no time to cook!
Yup! Only a bit.....I get distracted.
Quickly--in the shower---sometimes.
On the Internet?
Yes---all day on and off throughout the day...and night....looking for travel deals, checking emails, looking at the pound just to see what animals are there, stalking Facebook....but mostly looking at places to travel!
Where do you want to go?
Doesn't matter really--just away--to see cool things and do fun things and live life!
Do you have to go away to do that?
Can you do cool fun things here?
So why do you want to go away?
....it's away...(shrug). There is no laundry "away" and no cooking or dogs or painting or pressure to do and be things.
Ok. So at home you are too busy.
And you like to go away to be busy doing fun things.
So when do you slow down?
...slowing down is scary....
What is scary about it?
What if I crash? What if I lose control of it all?
What I hear you saying is that you are scared if you slow down you will lose control.....control of what?
..me..... I will crash and be a mess....I can't be a mess....I can't do that again....I can't...
Here's what I think K....
Your job was soooo busy before you left. Crazy busy! And you were running at super speed to answer emails and phone calls and attend meetings and juggle two roles. I think, K, you still are on the treadmill. I don't think you have stopped. You are still on super fast forward, the adrenalin rush feels so much better than having to feel all the feelings that come with you choosing to step away from work before it broke you this time.
You are busy and doing things and it feels good to be in control, so you keep doing...instead of just being.
I have been so busy burying myself in busy-ness and intellect and research and logic and physical work ....
When I first left work I felt lost and defeated; confused and sooooooooo disinterested in everything.
There was no tomorrow to be better. There was just the fuckshittery of today...
A never ending avalanche of fuckshittery......and I let myself get buried in it.
And then I didn't.
Not one to live in the half-way----I suddenly found myself looking around my house and feeling totally dissatisfied with what it looked like---agitated, unable to sit still---like a veil had been lifted and I suddenly saw all the CRAP of my house, followed up with a body slam of guilt for living that way for so long.
Who wants to feel that?
So I started to dig out from the fuckshittery and clear some space.
It felt good. Fixing the outside world felt great actually.
I could see the results.
I could feel the results in my tired and sore body and brain.
Tired body and brain meant no thinking.
No thinking meant just more doing.
Holy circle of alternative fuckshittery!
Dr. B, my psychiatrist has prescribed me some "helper" medication (I am painfully reminded of "helper dog" acquired to help "simple dog" of Allie Brosh's Hyperbole and a Half fame....a book that includes not only the best way to describe depression, but the most hilariously painful self-exploration EVER written....love her for sharing herself with the world....).
It is supposed to help with my fast talking wave of mania that Talk Doc and I have just started to poke at---which is sure to draw out some unexpected results...like the book.
Go read it...right now.