I fell off for a few days in an intentional/unintentional sort of way. That’s how the deep dives go sometimes. Sometimes the panic sets in and there is a flailing back to surface, back to what is familiar and makes relatively few demands.
Staying on the ground/keeping to the surface is safe. There is no risk of falling/drowning. And it’s totally okay to desire safety. It’s totally okay to decide today is not the day to climb a tree/do much more than wade into the shallows. As above/so below.
I’m sitting here in the rosy pink of dawn thinking about how I never used to hesitate (lies) and how I sometimes place this burden of needing to be as fearless as I once (never) was, scraped knees and all (okay that part is true). And while there were plenty of times I didn’t hesitate, I also broke my arms a couple of times and got into some tight places and made some rash decisions that didn’t turn out to be mortally inhibiting but have left some scars. With wisdom comes caution. With wisdom also comes the ability to recognize when it’s a day for playing it safe and when that’s more of a cover story for the hiding I might be doing. I hide a lot. I’m pretty good at it. But I’m getting better at recognizing how it shows up, where it shows up, and when.
When I’m getting into it, really delving into the feelings and motivations, which can’t help but happen when I’m writing on a regular basis, I set up subtle blocks, little habits which don’t take up too much time if I regulate… however, I do not. I fall into them. I have a television and a gaming console, but anyone who walked into my house wouldn’t know it because it’s hidden. And it’s hidden because I know myself. I know my penchant for deciding that nothing else needs to be done today and so I will play games. Which is fine, if that day was actually just a day and not a couple of weeks(or months). I notice a shift in what I’m reading, what I’m watching. I read books which are entertaining (and that’s fine! Books that achieve nothing beyond a delightful distraction are worthy and lovely and I will not be swayed on my opinion that reading for pleasure is a good reason) with characters who are moderately interesting but easily forgotten. Or I’ll binge television shows which are comprised of 30 minute episodes because that’s bite sized, right? You can devour half a dozen and it’s pretty much the same as one movie. Except it’s not, and I”m not going to stop at half a dozen. I know this isn’t behaviour exclusive to me, I didn’t come up with the term binge watch so obviously at least one other person has shown themselves to be prone to this. I take heart in how each time this happens, the duration of the binging/distractions/gaming/fluff devouring becomes a bit shorter. It suggests to me that I’m not as afraid as I used to be to get back up in the tree, take a breath and make the dive, get back on the horse. Actually not so much that, I find horses very intimidating so it’ll be a while before that’s a thing.
Regardless, I’ve had enough spills and subsequent scraped knees to know that it didn’t stop me from getting up and trying again. Just like Tigger, even me can’t keep me down for long.
Throwback to a time when falling was easier because I was closer to the ground and Tigger was my copilot.