Remind me — what was normal, again?

I’m tired of feeling “not normal”.

I’m tired of the depression and anxiety cycles that are still too close together.

I keep reminding myself that we’re still in lockdown, that we’re still in a pandemic, and that we’re all still dealing with hyper vigilance and unprecedented levels of stress.

But I don’t think it’s helping.

And I know we’re supposed to just sit with discomfort and not try to change it or fix it and just let it be what it is: uncomfortable.

But that shit is hard, man.

I’m not a person who self-medicates with alcohol or with drugs. When I feel like this, I do not drink. I know that it won’t help, and that it’s a slippery slope for someone with my family history of alcoholism.

I’ve never been interested in recreational drugs; I’m a person who likes to feel in control of my body and its functionalities, so the idea of being high is scary to me, rather than bringing a sense of release.

So what do I do?

I like retail therapy. I love just taking myself out for a day of shopping. But I’m trying to limit how much I do that at the moment, because my desire to get my financial shit together is currently greater than my desire to buy things.

I love sex. It’s one of my fastest roots to happy and relaxed, and I know it.

Believe me, if Mapland and I were in the same country right now, we’d be doing our utmost to break my bed/sofa/table/my entire house…

But Mapland is away right now.

So what does give me that shot of joy?

I love being in my garden, and there’s pretty much always something that needs tending to, so it’s an ongoing place of joy.

My animals make me happy, even if sometimes they make a lot of mess, and I’m not always great at keeping on top of it.

And I write. Which always makes me feel better -whether that’s immediate, or it takes a couple of days.

And I always seem to forget that writing shit down (happy or sad) is really good for my brain.

Note to self: write more shit. Much more better.