Today’s post may be more about mental health than anything else. As we all struggle through isolation of the pandemic I am no different. While many people identify themselves as introvert or extrovert I truly identify as both. I like being out and seeing friends and doing things and then coming home to decompress. Lately it’s all decompress and think vs out and about. I went to Target yesterday just to walk around. I came home with two packages of cookies, a gallon of chocolate milk and a box of Cheerios. I mean seriously how desperate do I need to be for that grocery list.
The problem for me, with having to much decompression time, is the mind starts to wonder. It thinks of all the what ifs instead of the blessings I have. What if life were different and I lived in an RV traveling North America like my binge Todd and Tyler on YouTube. What if we lived in a foreign country instead of the U.S. It has really gotten me into a depressive funk thinking of my days as get up, walk the dog, go to work, come home, walk another dog, sleep and repeat. That just seems like an insurmountable rut. I should be feeling insanely blessed to still be working and receiving a paycheck. Insanely blessed that 9 days out of 10 I truly enjoy what I do. Insanely blessed that I get paid well above the national/state average and am able to afford the life we have.
Yet in these times of extended decompression I often feel hollow and empty. Restless with the need to mix it up. Looking for ways to do something, anything, different. To find a spark in the current situation to hang on to and feed. A passion to carry me through.
However, at this moment, I sit in my bedroom, curtails mostly drawn feeling blah.
I’m well aware that most of the world may be feeling the same way. That doesn’t discount the individual me needing to feed my soul in some way. I don’t minimize the people of the world or their suffering, but I also can’t minimize myself. How I feel. How I’m doing. Everyone, at times, needs to put their own needs first. This is something I’m not sure I’m very good at. I could be wrong, and correct me if I’m not, but life often seems to be about others more than it is about me.
Am I a character part in my own life?
Pease, Love and Puppy Dogs,
The problem for me, with having to much decompression time, is the mind starts to wonder. It thinks of all the what ifs instead of the blessings I have. What if life were different and I lived in an RV traveling North America like my binge Todd and Tyler on YouTube. What if we lived in a foreign country instead of the U.S. It has really gotten me into a depressive funk thinking of my days as get up, walk the dog, go to work, come home, walk another dog, sleep and repeat. That just seems like an insurmountable rut. I should be feeling insanely blessed to still be working and receiving a paycheck. Insanely blessed that 9 days out of 10 I truly enjoy what I do. Insanely blessed that I get paid well above the national/state average and am able to afford the life we have.
Yet in these times of extended decompression I often feel hollow and empty. Restless with the need to mix it up. Looking for ways to do something, anything, different. To find a spark in the current situation to hang on to and feed. A passion to carry me through.
However, at this moment, I sit in my bedroom, curtails mostly drawn feeling blah.
I’m well aware that most of the world may be feeling the same way. That doesn’t discount the individual me needing to feed my soul in some way. I don’t minimize the people of the world or their suffering, but I also can’t minimize myself. How I feel. How I’m doing. Everyone, at times, needs to put their own needs first. This is something I’m not sure I’m very good at. I could be wrong, and correct me if I’m not, but life often seems to be about others more than it is about me.
Am I a character part in my own life?
Pease, Love and Puppy Dogs,
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