Getting Out of Yourself
“Despair compresses you into a small space, and a depression is literally a hollow in the ground. To dig deeper into the self, to go underground, is sometimes necessary, but so is the other route of getting out of yourself, into the larger world, into the openness in which you need not clutch your story and your troubles so tightly to your chest.”
Three weeks ago, I wrote that I wanted to pull the covers over my head and disappear. The week had been a tough one. In fact, the previous month had been a difficult one. I wrote about how I need to intentionally manage my mental health.
I shared that connecting with family and friends helps. But I have to be intentional about that too. Solnit's words resonated, I needed to get out of myself. But while I recognize the support of my social network, it is not easy for me to pick up the phone or send a message when I am in my small space.
Thankfully, I already had plans. I was tempted to cancel but decided instead to step into the larger world.
Two days after that blog post, a friend arrived for a 3-day island visit, an intense mini-retreat. We have known each other for 20+ years. Both generalists, we are interested in so many things. We love exploring new projects! At this stage in our lives, we continue to follow our passions. There is a synergy when we put our heads together. We spend long hours dreaming, brainstorming, and planning. As always, I was energized by our visit.
But socializing, even with good friends, also drains me. I used to think the definition of an introvert is someone who needs alone time. I learned from Susan Cain that yes, introverts need quiet, minimally stimulating environments, but also solitude to re-energize after being around people.
So I spent a few days alone - reading, gardening, writing - and preparing for my next visitors, my oldest daughter and granddaughter. My daughter was heading off on a business trip, and I was babysitting. This was a totally different type of socializing - busy, fun, and tiring - in the best way possible! I sleep so well after chasing a toddler all day!
My daughter returned, my youngest daughter arrived from the mainland, and we prepared for a girls' weekend. Our roles have shifted slightly over the years. My daughters now show up with food and wine and slip easily into kitchen duties. What do I do? I laugh until the tears run down my face, usually from conversations I cannot repeat. Conversations I sometimes wish they would have without me - too much information! They beat me time and time again in playing cribbage. They cook, and I eat - breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And I snuggle with my grandbaby so the girls can enjoy time together.
As they left that Sunday afternoon, I felt lighter and happier. But again ready for a break. I headed back to the mainland. My husband was away on a business trip, and I returned to a quiet house, empty except for our two cats. I knew I had two days before the next onslaught and reminded myself of the importance of taking care of myself. I went for long walks and bike rides, prepared for my spring workshops, and read more books.
Wednesday morning saw the start of a new life-story workshop series, meeting new women and hearing new stories. That evening, my daughter and granddaughter arrived for Easter. Toys, books, and baby paraphernalia were soon scattered around the house. Thursday morning, I facilitated my first life-story alumni series, reconnecting with twelve women, reminded of the common threads that weave through our stories. My husband arrived home in the early afternoon, exhausted. We loaded the car and headed out to visit family. On the drive home, I knew I had overdone it. I was relieved when my husband suggested we not go to a concert we had tickets for that night.
My husband and I and our bundle of joy!
Friday was a day of rest. I turned down an invitation for dim sum. An unexpected phone call from a friend both lifted and grounded me. I spent the day in my office, removed from the noise of golf and basketball, and visiting children upstairs. Saturday morning, we hosted a family brunch, I paced myself, and reigned in my personal expectations for perfection. Then a lazy afternoon with the kids, heading to the village for drinks and appies, catching up, and relaxing.
And here I am, Sunday morning, ready to pull the covers over my head again. This time, not from a feeling of despair but rather a sense of deep contentment. A desire for one last hour under the warm covers savouring the memories of friends and family and appreciating the strength I found to get out into the larger world.