Self Care Compromise
I haven’t done the best job editing this piece. It’s a second draft at best. It’s the best I can do right now with the capacity I have.
I’m worn out on all fronts. My muscles and body aches far more than usual because I’m spending all my time during quarantine on my desktop PC. My spine and neck are out of whack. My usual routine stretching and massaging sore or stiff muscles with my rolling foam cylinder isn’t working. I’m due for a chiropractor appointment, but I’m helpless because of the quarantine. I’m waiting for an email back from my doctor to see what I can do at home to help.
My brain is exhausted because I had a therapy appointment yesterday. I usually have a “therapy hangover” for days after depending on how intense therapy was. My therapist and I are on appointment 11. Things are going well. Yesterday was productive despite me having a muscle tension headache. I pushed myself too hard. This is a really bad habit I have, that I need to stop. My therapist was kind to suggest rescheduling our session for today. I chose not to, to work through my physical pain, because… I’m afraid that I’ll be abandoned by a therapist again. It’s already happened for good and bad reasons 6 times the past 12 years. I’ve been trying so hard to reach the peak of the therapist mountain seeking help. Each fall more devastating as I have to recover from worsening wounds by myself.
Now that I’m here, I’ve been working my ass off building the bridge to the next mountain within my soul, because I’ve wanted to be healed my entire adult life. This looks like: watching videos on YouTube about therapy, relationships, mental health, and self improvement like a job for 35+ hours a week during quarantine. I’m in spiritual pain from multiple grief events the past 6 months. I had to have my 18 year old cat euthanized in December. He was my best friend. (Sorry human readers, my Facebook circle. I do appreciate you, but my cat Flip was my best friend for 18 years.) My coworkers and I were laid off in January because the company went out of business. I poorly wrote a confession love letter to a woman I’d known for 26 years and was rejected. I made things worse by posting online about it.
This emotional wound hasn’t healed all the way yet. Everything that could go wrong, went wrong. I’m sure a country or blues song could be written about it. It was catastrophic heartbreak for both of us. My word count production has been focused on soothing my emotional wounds instead of soothing my creative need.
The rejection-breakup event destroyed me. It’s so traumatic that it’s changed my belief system about love, myself, relationships, and dating. An ego death.
Bernie Sanders and Elizabeth Warren both lost the Democratic primary. They were my first and second choice for candidates for 2020 POTUS. Andrew Yang would have been awesome too. I’d be okay with Pete Buttigieg. Biden as a choice is an exasperated sigh. I suppose this better than the diarrhea fart that is POTUS 45. So, I lost this year with politics too.
Covid-19 quarantine happened in March here in Washington state. It was the correct step to take for the sake of the world, the country, and the state. For my life, it’s a disaster on the scale of Mount Rainier erupting. Quarantine times grief to the 3rd power is a star going supernova into a black hole. A black hole which will only expire on its own time. In a way, time in solitude is exactly what I need right now. It been hell, but I believe that I am finally seeing life clearly now. I see who is there for me. What I value, and what I want to be in the future. One step forward is progress.
So all of these words are me giving permission to myself to rest. I’m listening to the feedback my body and mind are giving me. This year’s theme so far is: starting on a new path. I feel that the previous era of my life has ended. I will not repeat the same mistakes again.
Songs of the week:
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