It's been a strange few days. I complained a few months ago that everything was flat, that I missed the highs and could handle the lows, if I could just shake off this infuriating fog of detachment. Now the big swings seem to have returned and I'm not sure if I do prefer them. Which leads me to consider the following question:
What am I looking for?
And the answer, somewhat frustratingly is one of these:
- Perfection
- 'Level-ness' - and accepting just OK
- Acceptance of massive peaks and troughs of mood
Trouble being I really have no idea which one. Obviously I would like perfection. Perfection tends to be my life plan. This life plan, however, is what has landed me in a mess in the first place. So I have to accept that, along with abso-bloody-lutely everything else in life, recovery is not going to be perfect. This isn't easy, but in my adult state, I know that my make-up means that I am unlikely to achieve a state where I am generally content with the occasional rush of pleasantly manageable happiness. I just don't work like that.
Which means I have two choices, really. Of course it isn't as black and white as I make it appear, but let's just assume there is a spectrum within each of these options. In the most basic terms, I have a choice between working towards taking out the soaring and the plummeting of emotion, or aiming to remove myself from a rut of 'OK'.
Right now 'OK' seems like the preferable option. It is truly exhausting peeling myself off the ceiling one minute only to find that the ceiling was much further from the floor than I thought and I forgot to attach the bungee rope. I can almost visualise hurtling through space into the chasm below and seeing shapes on the wall blurring on the way down. I can laugh wildly at the speed of descent, watch it from the viewpoint of an enthralled observer, until I reach the bottom with an almost audible splat. It's kind of exciting. Even the splat is kind of exciting, until I realise that my face is mashed into the ground and I can barely look up. It might be simpler if I could identify when something might cause the rush of air that lifts me onto the wings of incredible joy, spot when I'm about to take off and, while not refusing it, because I can enjoy me, dammit, at least note that there will come a point where I need to control the flight in order to touch down without breakage. It would also definitely help if I could spot the moment when I am beginning to head downward again and make sure I have some necessary ropes in place for climbing back out, if I can't avoid the hole in the floor. The advantage to this state is that I stay sharp. It is fast, interesting and frequently very creative. I both delight in my quickness of mind, and loathe my self-absorption, I can write, plan, run, come up with brilliant solutions to problems with a neat little side-step from conventional thinking, and I make everyone around me laugh and adore my energy. The trouble is that underneath that energy is a constant mumble of destructive thoughts, paranoia, fear, self-doubt and the uneasy knowledge that it is unsustainable, and it could take just one slip of concentration to miss the ledge altogether and go to a place where I would never be able to climb out again. It's wild and dramatic. It is also exhausting and, on a very normal level of annoyance, it means I am careless, avoid anything that looks boring and forget stuff a lot.
Level, on the other hand comes with much less involvement. I vaguely explained to someone recently that I felt totally flat and dull, and that I wanted to participate in my life again. It still doesn't sound much of a tangible goal, but I stick by it when I'm in a detached state of 'just ok-ish'. I plod along in this state, not really noticing much and becoming a little frustrated by my slowness. It doesn't inspire any kind of strong feeling at all, really. It's boring, frankly, and I don't feel like me.
Not feeling like me is all well and good when I have summoned enough energy to hate me, but what would be wrong with actually making the most of me when I am being witty and interesting?
The advantages to level are of course a little more consistency, a lot less distraction, and far fewer thuds and abrasions from hitting the deck on a regular basis.
What if I could raise the level of 'level' a bit? What if there is a place where the line is a bit higher and I can send a little more current along it, resulting in occasional dips and lifts, but generally being tethered to the circuit? I can live without excitement, I think. I've never enjoyed adventure, particularly. But I don't want to grovel around in a ditch for the rest of forever, the flat line needs to be at a point where I can see a bit ahead rather than muffling everything to the point where I am just trundling along in the groove that someone else has dug for me. So my goal is just to raise level a little. In the meantime, I seem to be overshooting somewhat, but that's practice, right? A darts player doesn't hit the bullseye every time (heck, I don't even hit the board half the time), they practise and learn to judge their aim. So I need to keep practising and trying to find the level I need. I might fall off a few times, or zip a bit higher than planned, but I can always keep coming to look for the line.
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