Therapy with Myself
In April I was just about to leave for camp, and I wrote this as a reminder to myself.
In this pandemic, I have found many gifts for myself. Some came in the struggle, some with the losses, some from the time that was given. While yes, it has been a tough time for us all, I hope we’ve all found some peace within these storms.
Way at the beginning, I found myself in a pretty terrible depression. And when that was over - only a few weeks later - I decided to create a routine that would talk me out of the deep wallow before it ate me again. And for the most part, it’s been working.
I wrote down all the things that I do at the beginning of a good day. Then, I wrote down all the things that I would do if I felt like there was time for it. I constructed a list of 24 tasks consisting of multiple books, projects, classes, workouts, nice things to do for myself, and important things to say to myself. Each task is at or under five minutes.
On the good days, it’s very easy. On the rough days, I can do the next thing for five minutes… and the next, and the next. And by the end of 24, I’ve been doing so many things for the last two hours that I’ve tricked myself into a good day, and I continue. It’s not a cure. It hasn’t worked every single time, but mostly. And at the end of a year or however long it’s been, I feel very accomplished in all that I have done, and in all the days that might’ve been lost.
Because this routine and balance were cultivated in a certain space, I have been a little worried about leaving it. I never stay in one spot too long. It’s good for me to keep moving, to never be bored, to see the majesty of something new, to sit with friends that are far away, to not stop. I have been pretty seasonal for the last six years or so, and it is good for me. But now this routine is good for me too, and I have been a little anxious that they might not live well together.
Of course that didn’t stop me from jumping in the car as soon as the appropriate time elapsed after being vaccinated. Starting with my grandfather, the cutest man in the world, I mapped out a two week plan that would scratch my travel itch well, and test out if I can abide to the balance while being on the road.
The road trip was perfect. It was a reminder of exactly how good it is for me to see something more, to be directed by heartbeats, and to bounce-twirl around in their rat-a-tats. My obedience, not the worst. I am happy with myself. Proud even, a word that feels boastful to use on myself, but true. After over a year of the five-minute interval game, most of the things happen without me thinking about any of it at all.
Dear habits, Thank you for being a ladder in every hole.
For my mental health, I choose self-care. I choose to dance for five minutes in the morning, I choose to draw around the words I’m supposed to see every day and put them on my wall. I choose to be kind to myself, I choose to live like a person who is alive. I count the day as successful when I make it through, and at the end, I revisit the beauty of it.
I am glad to know that I can have both - the habits that found comfort in the quarantine of one home, and the goodness that comes with the newness of wherever I happen to be. I deserve both. I am worthy of both. And I will not backspace just because it feels strange to deserve and be worthy.
Probably something that looks a lot like another self help book. Here ya’ go! Listen to some Morphine, and sway around a little bit. This one is a vibe, ya’ll.
