A More Civilized Pace — Please!

Change. I know life is full of it, but I do remember when the changes in my life were more leisurely, when they weren't falling over each other in their eagerness to meet me, when they weren't pulling me along at rocket-speed and dangling me behind them like a toy on a tether.

I complain about everything, right? But my life seems to be on a bullet-train of change. I'm half a century old: change should slow down! Just let me catch my breath, at least. And how about balancing things out with some positive changes, such as financial independence (or at least security), and love and friendship (close on a geographic scale, please)?

I'm not a jet-setter. I'm not an adrenaline-junkie (but there are a couple of things I wouldn't mind trying again). I may walk briskly, but I also like to "stroll about, lookin' at the shops."* I love spending long, slow hours with friends and family, telling stories and laughing, taking long and scenic drives, playing games, and watching children play. I love spending time with someone special, curled up at opposite ends of the couch, and reading news articles, comics, and book passages to each other. I like to savor.

Mind you, I'm not only slow. I enjoy fast-paced movies and books. I love to watch MythBusters and the more explosions the better! I like fast rides and short lines. There's nothing like running and laughing with children until everyone collapses with exhaustion and giggles.

My social life at home is too slow: it's dead. With no work, my days drag. If I weren't paralyzed with fear over my impending complete brokeness, I could at least write. On the other hand, there have been jobs, Mom's cancer and death and all the many months of follow-up to that (that are speeding up now), and changes in my social life that brought it to death, freelance gigs, meeting people professionally — it's cocaine one one side and pot on the other, but not balanced and neither healthy nor fun.

Do you know what I want? 

1. Financial independence, or at least financial security, so I don't worry all the time, expending my energy fruitlessly.
2. Friends with whom I spend time with frequently.
3. Enough to do without it being too much. If I work for pay, then less than 40 hours a week and little or no commute: why spend my life on things that don't add to it? If I don't need to work for pay, then enough volunteer work and activities to keep me interested and interesting but that leaves me with plenty of time and energy to spend in other ways.
4. Someone special to spend that time with on the couch.
5. Two cats.
6. An office and studio that is full of light and comfort and that inspires creativity. In fact, an entire house like that. My house.

I know life is full of change, and that you cannot control all of it, or even most of it. I know change comes at all speeds, but lately I've felt exhausted by it. I want some good change in my life, and for my vehicle of change to move a bit slower. I don't need to ride in a stealth bomber.

*Moody Blues, Days of Future Passed

Not Quite Succeeding

Well, I tried. This week, in addition to the regular therapy homework, I had my new behavioral homework, just a few tasks. And as simple and small were the challenges, it's going to take more than a week for me to incorporate everything successfully and routinely.

Therapy homework
Nope. Didn't even think of it until about an hour ago and a couple of hours before I go to sleep is not the best time.

Behavioral work

1. Take a shower and get dressed every day, preferably before noon.
   I showered every other day. I got dressed every day, although sometimes in lounge-around-the-house clothes. About half the time I managed this before noon. Lesson: Don't read more than one blog before beginning after-breakfast routine.
2. Eat three meals a day, plus a piece of fruit and/or a vegetable every day.
   Didn't manage the three meals at all. I still mess up the hours in my day. Started out okay with the fruit, but then let the rest of the fruit and some of the berries go bad. Managed that a third of the week. No vegies at all. Lesson: Create alarms to make me aware of meal times. Prepare vegies right after I bring them home. Be more vigilant and eat the fruit or vegie first.
3. Leave the apartment every day. Pick up my mail every day. Preferably mesh the two and walk to the mailbox every day to incorporate some body movement.
   Only one day did I manage the mesh. I think there were only two days when I didn't go out, thus two days (or maybe three) when I didn't pick up my mail. And the walk plus mail day was my only walk day. Lesson: Create a schedule for the week requiring me to leave. Walk the walking trail at the complex at least twice a week — maybe set an alarm for it. Pick up the mail when I return from my going out. Without an external reason, I just don't go. Still too inert.

I'm also still not getting to bed early. I haven't been to bed before 12 this week, and I hit 2-ish at least once, which makes me get up later. And I generally turn off my alarm and continue sleeping. I need to push myself (which I'm not yet succeeding at) to go to bed earlier, and I need to put my alarm across the room so I have to get up (the alarm doesn't stop until I physically turn it off, so this could work).

I also am finding I still need a Red Bull each day to help me stay awake. I had one all week and did fine. I didn't have one today and around two thirty was so tired I lay down. The alarm on my Mac woke me up just enough to turn it off. I went back to sleep until 6:30. Four hours. I wish I could simply take a nap for 30 minutes, rather than sleep through the afternoon. It cost me time on a project, pushing me even later.

So I had a couple of very small successes this week, plus I got some ideas about what might work for this coming week. I've been solidly this inert for months, so changing may take longer than I expected. Unfortunately, because I'm very tired of it. Plus, I'm not making any money, which puts me closer and closer to running out.

It doesn't seem fair, after all I've been through, to have to deal with all this, and alone. I know Life isn't fair, but I wish it would help me a bit. If I have to do it all myself, I just might end up living in my car. (Sorry, Julie.)

Deep thoughts #2 --- Going ... up?

Do you ever find, after having been terribly sick or terribly down for a long time, that you resist feeling or seeming or accepting being better?

For example, I have bitten my nails most of my life and over the past decade and a half have managed to slowly make time periods between biting them longer and longer. Then last summer, when the troubles began to get worse, I began biting my nails again. I bit all of them, at some point, to the point of pain. 

A friend recently pointed out how they are growing again. "No they aren't," I said, pointing to the shortest one. "I bit this off just recently." "Yes," she said, "but I see white on all of them."

I wanted to argue with her. I'm not letting my nails grow. I'm still biting them because I'm Not Better Yet! I'm not getting better!

Why? Why would I resist any sign that I may be rising from the Abyss? Why would I want to continue to be or appear to be suffering or ill or unbelievably depressed?

Maybe I'm afraid that if I seem to be getting better, then no one will have patience with me if I'm not completely better — Now! — and all the time hereafter. Or maybe they'll think I was malingering: how long do you have to be in a Bad Place or State before you have legitimacy?

Or maybe I'm afraid I'm doing a disservice to my mom's memory by getting better now. Or maybe to myself in some odd way: if I'm well now, was I really that down and unreachable or was it really just ... all in my mind. Nerves. All those things that say I'm just a hypochondriac or just trying to get attention. Or maybe that I'm actually crazy. But something.

I have honestly turned the corner and I want to live now. That's an amazement in itself.

I'm still not doing my homework regularly, but I believe that my sleeping sickness over my vacation trumps that. Once I have the sleepiness under control and am feeling more me-normal again, the new "better-ness" will be more perceptible.

I'm going to show it off. Let others make their own judgments. I've been down to the Abyss yet again — my third time? my fourth or fifth? — and I beat it yet again. How many others can say that?

Temporary

Having my belongings packed into moving boxes indicates to me a temporary state, a state where I know I'm going to move again. I have lived out of boxes since 1991 when my now-ex-boyfriend and I moved into a house that turned out to be dirty and too uncomfortable to live in. In our next apartment, we kept boxes packed in the second bedroom, even tho' the apartment was more than comfortable. If I had lived there alone I might have kept it. But I left it when I left him. Perhaps we knew the relationship was, by that time, temporary.

When I bought my first house, I left a roomful of boxes packed, taking up the space in my second bedroom for far too long. Then I moved them upstairs so I could at least inhabit that bedroom as an office and a comfy place to hang out, with a twin bed in the corner where I could look outside into my back yard. I lived there for eight years — hardly temporary. When I moved almost 300 miles away because everything had changed, all I cared to take with me permanently was that house, something I long for even now 10 years later.