Out of whack

…and then back in whack, whatever whack is

I’ve been a sort of overdrive mode for the past two weeks. It could be the burst of energy I get once the corner turns and autumn arrives. I’m energized by the rain, the leaves shifting colour, and the ridiculous amount of Halloween decor in the Canadian Tire.

It doesn’t mean I’m not tired. But I want to be doing things.

I have felt sort of strange since I finished writing and podcasting my novelette. This whole year I’ve had the soft and gentle focus of the characters I love. Each day I could visit them and sink into the world I built for them.

Now I’m into beta-reading, and edits. And that’s exciting in its own way. I’ve received some super heartening feedback from the people who have opened their hearts for my book. But it’s not the same as creating something. It fills a different space.

So I’ve taken more shifts. Set up walks with friends. Volunteered for a festival. Bought a sketchbook.

Yesterday I worked a shift at one of my favourite cafes, as a favour for my friend who owns it. I realized half way through that I’d taken on too much. I knew I was going to have today off, and I was able to finish my shift, and go for a decompression walk with my friend.

But I had to spend last night looking after my pup, and I ended up needing so much sleep. I woke up to find multiple texts saying that I was supposed to work.

I was confused. I knew I had only agreed to a Thursday shift. I sent the evidence of that agreement, which I thankfully had.

I spent the day trying not to spiral, worried that I’d left my friend down. Worried that I had marred my welcome in my new town.

But instead of letting the spiral ruin my day, I started sending messages to people I care about. A good friend of mine who goes to therapy weekly told me that my habit of reaching out to say nice things when I’m amidst a tornado of doom is called “opposite action”. I remember thinking, but I made this coping mechanism up…and then realized that sometimes my instincts are good ones. That often I can trust myself to protect my mental health.

I have since been to therapy, and my therapist gently gave me a sheet of more coping mechanisms.

Today I’ve been so lucky to have genuine and connecting conversations with people I trust. That helped too.

My pup is doing so much better. She’s tentatively trying out her new knee, and she’s been resting and getting so many snuggles. That made my heart calmer.

Then just before I had to drive in to the city to pick up my youngest I got a text message from my friend. She assured me that I had remembered right, that I wasn’t supposed to work today, and told me she would pay me for yesterday (I had offered it as a gift for my perceived mistake). She calmed my concerns, assured me our friendship was still intact, and that I had not been in the wrong.

That settled my brain and my heart.

I have so much trust baggage, and I am always working to repair the parts of myself that suffered damage while I was trying to figure out I was meant to be a human.

Sometimes I forget that the world is full of thoughtful people and if I give them chances to be kind, they often show me that they are. And that’s all I can do, I guess. Is keep trying to trust.

Today was a really good day, after all. I feel calm and am sitting on the couch, my pup lying on my foot, my kiddo playing garticphone with his friends from our heart home on chat, and my partner reading alien and science news (they alternate between the two) on my other side.

…and today, I saw a rainbow. Stopped at a stop sign. And I managed to take a picture. It wasn’t bright, but it was enough to remind me that beauty is surprising and just out there, waiting to be seen.

Heart,

Wake

(I’ll try to create some whimsical prompts on Wednesday. I’m going to set an alarm now.)