Coming Out of Hermit Mode
It’s a strange thing to have noticed, but I always seem to enter a calamitous shift just a c-hair before the collective goes through almost the very same thing. This makes me a great friend to have in a crisis, but I tend to wallow in the pits of despair on too regular a basis.
With the first tendrils of Spring approaching I feel the stirring in my bones knowing I am soon to spring into action, although to what that is exactly is unknown to me at this time. Time, being the key word here, because it is not quite yet time. I write this in a late winter’s storm, one week after the groundhog decided to retreat back into his den. It’s not yet time to put down the Hermit’s lantern, as I need to cozy up in the cocoon just a moment longer. Wake me up in springtime proper!
It’s been a work in progress, but I’ve slowly been detangling myself from the value that society places on you in accordance with your bank account. I’ve previously written about the shift in tattoo culture being the canaries in the coal mine’s on the economic forefront, and I’ve been “given the gift” of reassessing my relationship with currency and capitalism. Do I have an answer for you? Hell no! But at least I’ve found some peace.
Weathering the Storm
I was not immune to whirlwind rollercoaster of emotions that the election cycle brought up, and I found myself lost in the roiling winds of fury and righteous rage - enough to make one sick. That combined with economic insecurity and a nervous system that has never once been regulated, lead me to being a statistic. One of the great many who end up in a mental health crisis. It was time for the festering nerve to expose itself and get to the root issues. The imagery of the ent extinguishing the flames on it’s back once the dam of Isengard burst along with the theme of “weathering the storm” made itself clear to me as my current (energy joke) theme. I had hoped that the storm was just the election, and the fact that it was just the preview of things to come and that the storm had not even began its first gales.
It was all a bit too much to take in, and after a long period of isolation and decompressing, it was time to kick in to gear and reach out to the professionals. On New Year’s Eve I left work early, needing to go in to the doctors’ office to refill a prescription, and ended up with my very first pair of the classic Girl, Interrupted socks. I’ve yet to see a padded room, perhaps the imagery is more dazzling to the imagination compared to the stark reality of optimized foot comfort floor gripping technology. I would highly recommend spending the holiday in the mental hospital, as there was no line and no wait, as most people had better things to do.
The waiting room is the worst part.
Hair of the Dog: Social Anxiety Edition
Sparing any boring or personal details, the state of Oregon is no longer as apt to let people fall through the cracks, and I quickly found myself in an Intensive Out-Patient program for mental health, which required daily group therapy, 5 days a week. Highly skeptical, but at the end of my rope and willing to try anything new, I headed to one of the things I fear the most— a room full of other people. With the gift of hindsight now at my disposal it seems rather silly, since it was the very thing that made the experience so wonderful.
I had forgotten that I really DO like people. In fact, I care quite deeply and compassionately for them, only it was hidden behind a convincing layer of tarnish.
Passing the Torch
Another unexpected discovery was that I was much more equipped to navigate these stormy waters than I had realized. I love to learn, and thrive in environments where organized notebooks and structured worksheets are required, but found the material to be a little redundant and stale compared to the things I have already come to learn on this path. Same conclusions, different avenues, only theirs are narrated by Ben Stein and mine colored by the visuals of Tolkien. Sometimes sterility is a great avenue for revue, however, and I was able to remember what I already Know.
My mission, should I choose to accept it, is to share it with anyone with eyes to see and ears to hear, which is really just fancy-speak for anyone with a spark of curiosity.
Much like my business’ namesake, I find myself at a crossroads. Like the snake that glides alongside her, I have shed what no longer serves to make room for this next phase, lying in wait as these nebulous notions begin to settle into a channel-in-wait. I have been suspended in the yoke of the void, yolk of the black egg, a dark night of the soul, and have felt this past month the birthing of a little spur of shell-shattering beak as I rise to greet this year of the Pheonix.
It is not yet the time for action, as there is still a weariness and sense of overwhelm that hasn’t yet been fully digested, but the cocoon is about to burst open with new life, and this first step is to formally announce that I am coming out of Hermit Mode and facing the Dawn.
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