Ready to blog, that is. Or ready in general.
That’s one of the problems with having your head in the clouds by default. Things take me by surpirse because I am not paying attention to the here and now. I am in my usual deep processing state, even when it is wildly inappropriate for the situation I am in.
It’s that inward tide I keep talking about. My gravity well. Anything I do in the world takes a constant input of energy in order to resist the powerful forces that draw me back into myself if I let up for even a second.
Like just now. I just spaced out for a good solid five minutes. An observer might wonder what had happened to me to make me sit still with my eyes focused on an imaginary horizon for so long.
And it’s been worse lately. I slip into reverie even when I am around others and should really be focusing on them.
And I can’t help it. The pull of that inward tide is especially strong lately and that means that all it takes is one unguarded moment and I am gone.
It makes me feel even more insecure than usual.
And yet, in another, more fatuous way…. it’s kind of nice.
Because recently,. these involuntary withdrawals while with others are not like the spacing out I do when I am alone and trying to blog.
They are actually quite soothing, in a somewhat infantile way. My mind relaxes and I feel warm and comfortable and secure.
And how could I resist that?
I honestly think I am regressing on some level. The image that comes to mind is myself in my early childhood being soothed by the sounds of the adults talking around me even though I did not know or understand what they were saying.
That’s the feeling I get. Just being happy to be around people while also being in my own little world.
Not that I space out while people are talking in the present day. It hasn’t gotten that bad yet. Nor do I space out when I am replying.
Instead, I space out the moments between conversational topics or any other sort of natural pause in the conversational flow.
And I have had no complaints so far, so I am probably making too much of the whole thing. I think (and hope) I am keeping up my end of the conversation without seeming too distant or distracted or like I don’t care what people are saying.
Damn it, it just happened again. Totally spaced out. Those internal processes of mine took over and I was a million miles away.
And it is hard to say what I was thinking about. Everything and nothing, like the Zen folks say, I guess.
I go back to the term deep processing. What is really going on is that I am relaxing my conscious mind so that the million and a half internal processes I have going on all the time can operate with maximum resources.
Which would be fine if it only happened when I wanted it to happen.
But it happens the second I stop moving, so to speak.
And it’s wearing me down.
Took a nap. Now I’m back.
I don’t like interrupting my blogging in the middle but sometimes I have no choice. This was one of those times. I was feeling very tired all of a sudden.
It was probably a stress reaction. The main reason I have never been able to stop taking multiple naps during the day is that I use said naps to reset my background anxiety level to zero before it spills over into foreground anxiety.
Not a very healthy strategy, but it’s what I have got.
When I am out in the world on my own, the fact that I can’t retreat into sleep when things get too scary can cause anxiety in and of itself.
Welcome to the nested fractals of anxiety.
Luckily, that only happens when some other stimuli gets my anxiety going. Normally I am quite calm and possibly even enjoying the sunshine and fresh air.
In that sense, I could consider my agoraphobia partially cured. I can go run an errand and not feel much anxiety. I guess a year of going to VFS helped.
My social anxiety is alive and well and living in my soul, but the agoraphobia is partly subdued at least.
But only partly. Because the truth is that the main problem, actually getting myself out the door, remains as formidable as ever.
It’s that old ill predictor again. It convinces me that I will hate going out and that it will be nothing but an anxiety nightmare and all the usual bullshit.
It all boils down to resistance. The damage in my brain makes it so that just walking out that door means overcoming an incredible amount of inner resistance, and that makes the simple act of walking out the door a positively Herculean task.
There’s a world of stuff I could do instead of rotting away in front of this computer all day. I could go to the beach, once the weather gets a bit nicer. Could do me a lot of good to spend some time soaking up rays, letting the heat from the sand bake the toxins from my skin, and maybe taking the occasional splash in the water.
But there is still a part of me that needs a very strong motive to even consider going out into the world. The idea of doing it just for fun is a total nonstarter.
That would mean going out in the world voluntarily instead of because I have to in order to accomplish a goal.
And that seems like utter madness to my sadly still very ill mind. I need the motivation of a necessary mission – like picking up meds – to get me out that god damned door.
That’s what makes me an urban hermit.
And it sucks.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.