"There is nothing worse than a brilliant image of a fuzzy concept." -Ansel Adams
It's become clear to me over the past two weeks or so that I've approached an unavoidable crest of decisive moments in a few areas of my life. It's not that I find this daunting; I actually am grateful for the will to even make determinations in light of the fact that my soul had been laying low and soft for a long time, zipping up inside of itself just enough to allow me to function on auto-play, get through days without experiencing any loss or disappointment or bare-naked vulnerability. Yes, I've been often tucked away on the other side of the wall over the past year and a half, and have peered out from the mouse hole during the last few months to observe the action bustling about in this bright room, and I want to do more than warm my face in the sunshine and then scurry back to the hideout.
One thing I'm most happy to see re-emerge is my intention to allow myself to feel the fear of journeys I've wanted to embark on for a long while. I'd convinced myself that I didn't care what I was doing or where I was going in my life, because things had spun so out of my own control that my defense mechanism flipped into hypersonic mode and told me to go numb. Numb. I can't stress strongly enough how destructive the state of numbness is to a person's spirit. Sometimes, the brain doesn't know what else to do with information or circumstances that are too intense to bear; it's a part of our chemistry. But left to burrow and nest unattended, it will smolder the soul in a cloud so black and so acrid that it will choke out even the desire to emerge from it.
Freeing myself has largely been a task I have borne alone. I don't have a large social circle from which to draw support and there is no family member I have the type of relationship with currently that lends itself to that sort of sharing. Mr. Sarcomical has at times tried his best to be supportive, but his own personal struggles and a schedule that has taken him frequently on the road often has limited what he can provide in terms of accountability and active encouragement. Sometimes when both spouses are working through individual difficulties, it's like two people treading water. You have to start kicking your own feet or you'll both just be going nowhere and running out of breath.
I am kicking as hard as I can.
I am going to dive back into some parts of LIVING I've all but abandoned - experimental cooking, getting messy and making objects with my hands, writing every day, having a sleep schedule FRIENDLY TO HUMANS, etc. I'm going to rely on a lot of physical exercise to be my antidepressant drug; it's something I've come to realize is unavoidable for me at this point. But hey, bonus! NICE ASS, which I think I can live with. I have to let go of the guilt of feeling so far a disappointment to anyone who ever nurtured my intelligence or talents. I have a personality which naturally hesitates at hint of failure, smack talks itself out of going after a frighteningly wonderful opportunity. The cyclical thinking which allows someone to stay stuck in Numb is ridiculously simple for me to slip into. But if I can each day do ONE thing that excites me even a little bit, or take ONE step in the direction of something I intend to be, I can be confident that my soul will be able to breathe easy. Emerging from Numb is an incredibly difficult process, but I don't need to worry about making it all look perfect.
I can be a fuzzy image of a brilliant concept.
