Beginning again

​I begin again. And again. And again. The road is paved with good intensions. I had this grand plan when I moved home, to be better. To write more, be more creative, be vibrant.  None of that has worked out terribly well.
I’ve been in therapy now almost two years (almost as long as I’ve been home). Sometimes I feel like it’s one of those things where you are worse before you feel better. Unpacking, unraveling, unearthing layers and layers of trauma and trauma reactions and behaviors. Connecting with parts, all the parts, versions of me from the past all clamoring for attention to address the many woes.  Healing is exhausting. My body seems to be manifesting physical reactions to various mental griefs.  Kidney stones, menorrhagia (worse), Reaggravated back injury, new SI joint injury, hypertension and now a torn calf muscle. I really hope I get to the point where I can just be healthy, and happy.
I’m doing little things to this end. I’ve started reading again… I try to mix the learning books (mostly about health, trauma, sensitivity etc), with fun fiction… but I will own to being avoidant of late of going too deep, too heavy. Because let’s face it, things feel like an ever-increasing shit show, in my life, and as the country becomes an authoritarian fascist police state ruled by an oligarchy class and maniacal dictator want to be. People in cages, people being hung, people being shot, people losing rights, people losing their businesses, tariffs making everything incredibly expensive, student loans, medical debt, credit card debts… the overwhelming feeling like I’ll never make it out from any of it.  We’ve upped my anti-depressants. I’ve downloaded some mental health app called Finch which gives you points for doing things that are good for you.  I’ve been learning Spanish on Duolingo… trying desperately to not just wallow. I try to spend at least 15 minutes in movement/exercise… this is limited by all my maladies but I’m trying to find things that work for me that I can do.
I’m isolated. This is I think in large part by choice. I don’t know that it’s a good choice.  My lifestyle has changed, I don’t really go to bars anymore, stay out late, avoid crowds. Outside of work I don’t really see or meet people. I ponder taking some sort of class… but that costs money. Where else does someone go to meet people anymore if you don’t want to go to a bar? What do I contribute that would make me of interest to anyone? That sounds darker than I perhaps mean for it to be. Still … having a time of introspection and self-work just feels like the best course of action. How does one start? Doing what I can I suppose a little bit every day to be better, physically, mentally, financially, etc.
My Aunt died a week ago. I didn’t know her well. There’s feeling alone in that… drudged up from being kept from everyone. My grief is largely that my mother is in grief. I met a cousin at work… that always feels awkward as bits of family history are talked about happily, when I know nothing about it or anyone. So how much of my self-isolation is because being isolated is what I know and don’t know how to break out of it? I’ve been going through old family recipes and typing them up. Reflecting on those I remember.  I’ll post some.
So this beginning again… I’m not going to be fancy, not do any mind-blowing studies, quoting other sources, or make it fancy… just a journal of thoughts… I’m going to try and write in at least once a week.  (Ideally three) But I’m doing my best to make small obtainable goals that are not overwhelming. “Baby Steps” as Bill Murrays character says in ‘What about Bob’.
So hello. Here I am again. Determined to press on and do the work and keep healing.