I finished reading Moby’s book a few days ago and am now a bit re-obsessed with the guy. There are some pretty good 300+ song playlists on youtube to put on in the background of my work day. I approve.
This is my current favourite version of my favourite song. Far more upbeat than the original and yet somehow still bleak and lovely.
There is a big, heavy block of discontent nestled into the centre of my brain right now – and it keeps shifting to a place in my stomach, then back to my brain, back to my stomach, repeat, repeat, repeat.
I know what it’s about and I know what caused it. I know that I can’t do much to change those circumstances, but I also can’t seem to find a way to get the heaviness out of my system.
Recently I was talking to someone about the difference between (for lack of a better term) lifestyle changes to shift someone’s addiction and a full-on residential addiction treatment plan. The person was talking about all the small things that a person can do – eat better, spend more time with friends, get outside for fresh air – and how all of these things, combined and in part, will help with the healing process.
I countered, though, by saying that while the piece-by-piece method may work for some (and it definitely does) for others it’s akin to trying to heal a thousand injuries one by one. Every time you ‘fix’ one part, another wound re-opens. Every time you manage to slap a bandaid on something, another part develops an infection. Some people have the ability to focus on 28 different wounds, in a balanced way, but I think most people get worn out and overwhelmed.
Honestly, I use physical injury metaphors a lot – people tend to understand them.
As it goes, you have this option of trying to heal all of your wounds individually – or you check yourself in for major surgery. With the second option, you’re ripped open, the infection is scraped out, you’re washed and disinfected, everything is stitched up, and with any luck you return to your life needing to tend one single wound for a while.. until it heals. The process is intensely painful but the healing is ultimately faster.
(That’s a reaaaaaaally simplified picture, I realize. But it sort of works for me.)
I really feel like right now I need to rip open my brain, scrub it out and disinfect it, and then get on with things – but I can’t figure out how. The metaphor only goes so far. It’s not about looking for a new therapist (although I should probably get back on that path sometime) but more about trying to figure out what, exactly needs to be cleaned out.
All of my emotions right now are useful and appropriate – but they’re not being directed anywhere. They’re just sitting there, burning holes in my brain. Conversations with me right now are just chock full of weird complaints – I can hear them coming out of my mouth in an unstoppable stream. Even nice things prod me to start muttering unpleasantly about some specific issues in a cranky voice.
Re-reading some of the Dalai Lama’s writings. Trying to distract myself. Trying to think positive things. Trying to avoid stabbing someone. Sending some emails that I’ve been weighing for a bit. All the little things that, hopefully, added up will help.
Nothing’s working, so far.
This too shall pass.
This too shall pass.
Or I may just need to burn it down..