My psychiatrist didn’t remember me one visit to the next. My therapist seemed forgetful, and always took five minutes to ‘reacquaint herself’ with me. So you’ll understand the irony I feel this morning, after my swim aerobics, when the instructor who’s never even asked my NAME took the time to talk to me this morning because I hadn’t attended her class for several weeks.
Yeah. She remembered me. Welcomed me back to class. The docs…not so good.
My body was reminded why I began that class: several moves took me by surprise, and my muscles feel it. Got to keep in mind that just because the class gets EASY it doesn’t mean I don’t need it. It just means it’s working.
And how mentally refreshing for me today, with no floats in the pool dividing this lane from that. Without all the eager beaver non-drowners, the surface remained calmer and smoother which meant that I was able to glide thru the water, barely lifting my head out for air.
It was a damned good swim.
Yesterday I felt myself slipping away. It’s the only way to describe it. My vision was sitting a few feet behind my eyes (or that’s the way it felt). Did my best to remain calm – which was a challenge. I freak a bit when that happens to me. No idea why it was happening. The girl remained mute on the subject. For a good portion of the time I felt like I was holding her hand, telling her it was going to be okay. That we were okay. And I kept visualizing the river, a base of kindness that flows out of me and into the world. It kept me in my body enough that I didn’t lose it. In fact, I went out into the world and walked around downtown for a short period of time. But it wasn’t until later in the evening, when some comedy finally made me laugh and forget myself, that I really felt I’d returned.
I broke down my ‘tasks’ for the week into small errands for each day. Seems like a better way to go right now than a mega-haul that takes care of everything in one trip. Less stress, and it gives me a reason each day to go out into public.
I may have once been Superwoman, but I’ve hung up my cape.
Now…Now I want to wallow in life, rather than fly over it. That’s pretty much the way it feels, too. Like I flew over most of my life, ran around chasing my tail over this or that rather than just LIVED. Got to give myself props where props are due: I’ve accomplished a lot of work. Finished many projects. But I’ve also rarely allowed myself to enjoy my past accomplishments; once something is ‘finished’ it’s in the past for me. The question of ‘what’s next?’ comes up right away. There’s no holding in one spot, or saying ‘Aaaaah! It’s done; I can relax now’. No. Space gets cleared and the next project gets worked on. Almost immediately. If it’s not my music, it’s writing. If it’s not writing, it’s my head. Always something.
That idea has been twisted and perverted and thrown back at me: why can’t you just spend time with yourself? Why must you always be busy with something?
Why do you hate yourself so much?
Today I say no, no, no! I don’t hate myself. I won’t claim to love myself that much, either. But I AM bored. Bored, bored, bored.
Jobs are boring. Eventually. For the first year or so, depending on the difficulty of the tasks involved, I find new jobs fascinating. After I master what needs to be done, tho, I grow bored. Restless. I want something different. It’s the same with just about everything.
The problem is, move too fast around me, ask too much of me, and I’ll overload.
I’ve got to find my own timing. It’s fast. Faster than average. But it’s not non-stop. A bit of repetition to make me feel safe then a change up for some excitement.
Tell me PLEASE what kind of work satisfies THAT kind of need. *rolls eyes*
Tell me what kind of LIFE satisfies that need.
…There I go again. Rubbing my hands on my thighs. Gonna wear down every pair of pants I have with that. It’s become an automatic unconscious action for me. Ask me to stop doing it and I’ll go nuts.
HELLS BELLS! I think I’m flipping around a bit fast this morning.
And I don’t feel quite connected. Not as unconnected as yesterday, but definitely not integrated.
Well. No time first thing this morning. Late sleep, a bit of coffee, off to class, and back with my brother fully awake and jazz on in the living room. Guess I need to make my mornings a priority.
It’s pretty obvious to me when life continuously pops the same lesson in front of me that I don’t quite have the hang of it yet. I’ve got a good memory for a lot of things, but some ideas I just can’t hold onto for long. Be kind to myself. Mornings are important. Breathe, don’t swim. Count to three before opening my mouth to speak. Expect the Dutch language at every turn. Say the hard things.
I can grasp them fully for short periods of time. Over the long run, tho, I ‘forget’. Trip up. Make mistakes. Maybe take a step or two backwards.
But there’s that repetition I said I wanted. I’m not master of this stuff yet. So repetition it is. Perhaps that’s a good project to try to reintegrate myself today: make a list of all the things I need to remember.