The weeks are starting to feel faster. A couple of months ago, on Sunday night, I’d start to get anxious about the impending week and how it would feel long, hard, and lonely. Then, I’d start to get anxious Sunday afternoon in anticipation of the Sunday evening routine and the impossible-to-ignore awareness that the weekend was almost over and the week would soon be upon us. Unlike some people, this dread isn’t about working or not liking my job; in fact, I’m blessed to love my job and I work some on weekends anyway, so weekends and weekdays are often not appreciably different in that way. Mostly, I think, I’d feel sad about being alone so long during each day, not getting a chance to see Ben, and fending off physical pain and depression in isolation.
I’m not so much feeling that way recently, which is a welcome development. I still cherish the weekend time and enjoy the companionship and the more relaxed vibe that characterizes our weekends together, but I’m doing better alone as well. I’d say the pleasant spring and summer weather is the main attributable factor: I’m so much happier when I’m not freezing and there is abundant sunshine to soak up outside. Although not wholly healed, my foot is also better, restoring much of my significantly compromised mobility from the end of the winter and the early spring. Both of these factors result in more outdoor time, which almost always mitigates my anxiety and lifts my mood. If I am completely immobile or stuck inside for weeks or months on end with injury or illness, one of my necessary “tools” to moderate my mental health is missing and so I feel unequipped and justifiably anxious that I won’t be able to handle it well. It’s somewhat like repairman being stripped of her ratchet set or drill but still getting called to a job. She knows she can improvise somewhat, but without some key tools, she would feel nervous and more doubtful of her command over the repair. Give her those tools back, and she’s ready to effectuate the repair with confidence.
In addition to improved weather, less foot pain, and more mobility, I’m excited about my life right now. This may be the first time I’ve truly felt this way in almost a year, when I decided to forego the prosthetics residency and found a job that suited me well. It’s a beautiful thing when, despite numerous and pervasive challenges, you can feel content, and even sparked by your everyday life. The addition of this new job, though undeniably adding responsibility and some amount of stress, is invigorating. I really like what I’m doing and who I’m working with so far and it’s a near-perfect complement to my other job in terms of its different demands, purpose, and focus. I can’t wait to learn more each day and discover ways that I can be helpful and fill obvious and also unanticipated voids and needs.
I’m also continuing to find satisfaction and better self-understanding and self-compassion through my journaling and blogging. Writing gives me time to think, grieve, appreciate, analyze, strategize, and inspire. It helps me dissect and digest some of the many thoughts and emotions swirling about my head on any given day, and it helps me connect with myself and the world. I write about being autistic, having sensory issues, trauma and PTSD, depression and anxiety and physical pain, but also I write about being human and my life and the world through my lenses. As much as I feel different and am different than most people in very obvious ways, it also helps me feel the same and understood, especially when others can relate to my experiences or challenges. I get brief tastes of being as human as I actually am, yet often fail to see from my mental space of “freakishness” and deep, almost metaphysical, loneliness.
Although my progress is never linear and these improvements don’t always feel relevant each day, it’s useful when I do recognize the trend has changed for the positive. Although that familiar swing of anxiety may catch me on Sunday night, I just need to remind myself that the week is really nothing to fear: not only am I fairly equipped to handle it and grow with it, I may even enjoy it.