I don’t know what it’s like to have a lobotomy. I imagine it feels like my current self, but I didn’t have a lobotomy, I had an appendectomy. Did they accidentally remove part of my brain with my appendix? Were some of my executive functioning brain cells in the lumen of that vestigial organ, unbeknown to me, undetected by the surgeon, not visible with the laparoscope he snaked into my abdomen?
At any rate, here is what I seem to be missing: More than five minutes of focus. The ability to daydream without it turning into some sort of analysis of the past or overplanning for the future. The confidence to imagine ever feeling clarity of mind again. The wherewithal to tell my inner critic to take a break and let me drive for a sec.
I’m tired. To be expected, sure. But tired in a way that isn’t all about my body recovering. Tired in a way that is throwing me for a loop, after returning from travel to some structure was helping me feel really good. I mean, I suppose it’s tied to recovering, that my body is using energy in a different way right now, so I don’t have the same capacity for navigating my inner thoughts and feelings in a positive way. In a word, I think being in this brain space is triggering. It puts me in a space where it’s especially hard to do the work of giving myself grace.
I’m trying to sit in the present moment of “things feel hard” and leave it at that, rather than “things feel hard… and obviously that means something is wrong, that I am wrong, that I’m doing it wrong, that it should be easy.” To reset expectations for what I have the capability for right now.
But it’s hard to sit in the present moment when it’s not a particularly comfortable place. I want to think my way out of it, to move out from feeling shitty that things feel hard, to push it aside, cover it up, pretend it’s not there. Think my way out of it.
I haven’t been able to think of anything to write about this week, so I’ve been putting off starting. But one thing I’m trying to remind myself of lately, as I ease back into structure, is that even things I want to do will feel hard. Like, wanting a thing doesn’t mean it won’t be hard. And it being hard doesn’t mean something is (I am) wrong. Some days, there aren’t breakthroughs. Most days, there aren’t breakthroughs. Most days, there is the unglamorous work of spending time with something I want to be doing, even if the result is shit. Even if I feel like shit doing it. Because the most important thing on those days, is to keep the promise to myself that I want to spend the time, that I want to do the thing, and if I can honor that commitment on the hard days, I will feel even better on the days it does come more easily.
I’m horrible at celebrating. Normally, my reaction to, for example, finally sitting down to write this, would be “God, finally you got that done! Now, what’s next?” Today, instead, I’m going to post this and go for a walk in the sunshine to actually celebrate the fact that I kept this promise to myself, that even though this is a rambling mess (it’s okay, you don’t need to comment to assure me it’s not), it’s a finished rambling mess that at worst won’t offend anyone and at best will resonate with someone. Celebrating these moments will make it that much easier to keep the next promise to myself, rather than being afraid that all I’ll give myself in return is admonishment. Positive reinforcement, I guess.
Thanks for reading—hopefully there’s a nugget or two in here for you, and if not, well, maybe next time :)
Erin, your post touched me as it surely did others. We've all been in that uncomfortable, ditzy, stuck place at one time or another. Your description is fantastic. Keep celebrating the wins. You'll be back to you in no time.
MAKE SHIT...
THINGS GROW GOOD IN IT...
MAKES SHIT!!!
Maybe your brain is missing your "vestigial" organ... your brain had to be aware of it somehow... now it's trying to compensate for the loss?