Things feel slow and hushed these days. I like it that way. Even though they aren't really. After all, there's always something to do or somewhere to be. Three of us in the house are working, one is tweening, and the dog is dogging. It's been a whirlwind summer. There are never enough days to connect with the people I actually want to see. But for once, I'm actually doing the things I want to be doing. Not performing or trying to measure myself against contrived standards that are impossible to meet. Not having panic attacks over assignments that bored professors barely scan their eyes over. Not self-flagellating when I get things wrong. Not feeding my imposter syndrome nearly as much. Parenting with swagger instead of letting useless distractions rue the day.
I have returned to myself in so many ways. It was a long journey. I got so far from my centre. From my wholeness. I had to break to find it. I wasn't exactly a pillar of mental health before, but I had routines. Nonetheless, in the past year and a half, I really did myself in. A strange descent into madness propelled by an intangible loneliness, a protective ego and a potent dose of disenfranchised grief.
What did all this result in? Just a rejection of self, really. A fractured self. People like me, we can't fully break, you know? The world doesn't like it. It scares people. As a youngster growing up in a highly dysfunctional home, I knew this. I understood I was to take on darkness in others and in the world, but not become dark. To care deeply about suffering but not show my own. I'm supposed to have my shit together. I'm the one people go to when they break. And so when it happened to me, I was too ashamed to go anywhere except the dark corners of my mind. And when I did reach out to non-professional supports, I didn't always get the compassion I hoped for. If you want help these days, or rather, if you want empathy, sometimes you have to pay for it. I'm grateful that I had the means to do so. It makes me upset that other people don't.
So, even though it's not quiet in the outside world, there's a new sense of calm and unhurried bliss inside of me that I've been really leaning into. I think my internal structures are undergoing a rebuild. A steadier foundation is being poured. I co-regulate with my son like a boss. We do this thing when he's really struggling to find his baseline: the 5-4-3-2-1 grounding technique. 5 things you can see. 4 things you can touch. 3 things you can hear. 2 things you can smell. and 1 thing you can taste. If you're ever losing your shit, I highly recommend this in conjunction with deep breathing. And with my daughter, we are developing a closeness I haven't been able to find with her in...well..maybe ever. I'm enjoying their growth. I'm paying attention. I'm watching in awe as my son curls up in the arms of his daddy in the soft glow of morning. It's fucking beautiful. It's slow. It's right where I need to be.
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