It’s been just over a week since Mrs. M and I went our separate ways. Sort of. We’ve had to talk on the phone about practical things, we’ve also spoken about non-practical things, then we realised that that isn’t “space” and it’s all very confusing at times.
I know, I said I wouldn’t mention Mrs. M.
Our separation is – I thought – the reason my head is all over the map. It plays a part in it, of course.
But increasingly, I think maybe I am the reason my head is all over the map.
My previous post to this was a rather lengthy explanation of why I write.
Hold that thought.
My room is no longer chaotic or overwhelming. In fact, it’s quite cosy and perfectly set up with a writing space and everything.
Coupled with the fact that I have now, finally and officially quit smoking (yay! But point of honesty: I’m on the vape instead. It’s easier to quit than cigarettes and I will come off of that in a week or so) I have no reason to feel like I need to leave/escape my room.
But here I am, sitting in the square again. Somehow able to write again.
There are other things niggling at me: my last counselling session brought up an interesting point. My therapist noted that I only seem to write when I am angry or otherwise feeling a strong emotion.
This is largely true. And it surprised the hell out of me.
Okay, now let’s piece these disparate thoughts together: still feel like I need to escape my room…currently writing albeit in a public square.
Am I writing out of fear? I am not consciously scared. My conscious thought leaving my room was “it is awfully quiet in my flat mates’ room and I know she’s in there with her boyfriend. Are they wanting to have sex? I should go.”
Seriously. My room is right next to hers and although I have previously delighted in the sounds of drunken sexcapades in house shares past, 4:30pm quiet sex just feels awkward because we’d both be aware that I can hear it.
The truth is, I think I am distracting myself from the things that I need to do in order to fully recover because they scare the living bejesus out of me.
Other than avoiding 4:30pm sex noises (and let’s face it, they could equally be napping for all I know. That’s an equally decent 4:30pm bedroom activity), at this very moment I appear to have fled my bedroom. And now I’m writing.
Is it a coincidence? I mean, it could be. But I have a reputation of wanting to escape rather than face things. Or myself. Indeed my primary reason for drinking in later years was largely for escape from feelings (and towards the bitter end it was escaping from a violent hangover, but that’s still a prime example of wanting to avoid consequences).
Here are a few other things that I’ve noticed: there is a lovely walking trail/nature reserve just a few minutes from my flat. For the past three days I have made the effort to go and walk for a good 30 minutes or so along the trail.
Don’t get me wrong, this is a good habit. I am thrilled and plan to keep it up.
But here’s the catch: I have a goal for the period of time when I’m off work and “working on me”. My goal is to, well actually work on me.
That means facing difficult feelings. Processing them.
And then (and this is the super-scary part that’s probably causing my desire to flee), channeling them into an artistic project. Specifically a sound/music related one.
Side note: even just writing that last sentence has caused my whole body to tense up. This is how much I am afraid.
Ever since I was 13 years old, possibly earlier, I’ve wanted to make music. I’ve bought instruments, studio equipment…but nothing. I’ve blamed a lack of time, a lack of space…and now I have no more excuses.
(I still can’t believe I am admitting this.)
I have all the time and space I need, and of all the belongings I have purged, my music equipment has stayed. I know this is something I need to do – get it out of my system, as it were – but what am I doing instead?
Sitting outside, writing.
I could’ve stayed in my room and put headphones on and blocked out whatever noises may or may not have emanated from my fault mates’ room. At the very least I could’ve listened to music while setting up my laptop for the purpose of my musical project.
It’s on my mental to-do list, though I haven’t as yet summoned the courage to actually write it down on my physical to-do list I create for myself each morning.
I have hours to kill before my meeting tonight to make a start at this very important thing I need to do.
Instead, I escaped.
Or is it just that the weather is gorgeous (because it is) and I wanted some vitamin D?
No. Sure I’m sipping on coffee but it’s decaf so this tense feeling is definitely fear. I am writing because it’s something else I can do instead of facing myself. Just like walking along the nature trail is. Or cooking, which I suspect will happen more as well (just borrowed two cookbooks from the library so…).
Cooking is important. Exercise is important. But are either of these things the very important thing I need to do?
Well, even if I’m avoiding what I feel I ought to be doing, at least I know that writing is still helping me process these initial feelings and understand my crazy head a bit better.
I guess I do need to summon some sort of willpower against my crazy head. Keep up the good habits (long may they continue), but make sure I make time for the important work.
My meeting is over an hour away. I have time to set up my laptop. I will probably never mention music again and probably won’t write until the next time I’m trying to avoid something. Or not.
Wish me luck.
(Final side note: instead of getting up and going back to my flat I drew the uninspiring image that accompanies this post. The resistance is definitely strong…)