I don't know if this is typical when dealing with personal crises, but for long periods of time over the past two years I've felt a bit like I was standing outside myself. I would go through the motions of the day, but my mind was wrapped up in its own little blanket of oblivion. Operating on a lower level of consciousness, if you will. It was almost as if my soul had been pulled from my body, and then watched as the place where it used to be was wrapped in layers and layers of impenetrable cement- cement made of anger and bitterness, weariness and hurt and guilt.
These past two days, while not different from any other on a surface level, have allowed me just enough leeway to chip away at some of the nastiness and let my mind try to find its way back to where it belongs. Yesterday the Mooch and I took a bubble bath and splashed and squealed and had a jolly time of it. I baked chocolate chip scones and didn't fuss over how much chocolate ended up smeared on little cheeks and clothes. I've spent my evening time reading, nothing too deep or crazy, but simply thought provoking. I stood over a sink full of dishes and considered the idea of the memory palace, and this afternoon for a lark I tried a sample quiz based on the Mensa entrance exams. I burned incense and sent a couple notes to friends I haven't seen in ages. Through all this, each of these little moments, I was actually feeling like MYSELF, instead of the mindless automaton I'd become. Maybe it's just that I can feel the spring waiting to come back- those extra minutes of sunshine at the end of the day, the hint of fresh air as the snow melts just a bit. Maybe it's because I've left the phone off the hook a bit longer than usual. Or maybe it's just that finally, finally I'm ready to leave some of my emotional baggage behind and move on with life.
I think I'm almost ready to be me again.