Earlier in the week I blogged about going to an RU OK forum, leaving with much food for thought, and needing to do some processing.
It’s funny how you can come up with all sorts of rationales and sophist responses as a shield against facing up to reality. When you’ve been doing that for quite a while, it becomes second nature, but that doesn’t make those responses any truer.
For years my response to “Are you OK?” or “How are you going?” has regularly been something along the lines of “I’m coping” – a neat little bit of sophistry. Having had some time to process the information from the forum though, the one thing that stuck most for me was the notion of a “window of cope”.
And yesterday, I came to the conclusion that my “window of cope” has shrunk to levels that are definitely no longer healthy. There’s always been a partial shame in hiding these emotional issues, but I was surprised how cathartic it was to say to a friend yesterday via IM chat, “I think I’m approaching the time where I have to consider that I need to see someone professional.” Aside from a little tear here and there when listening to a sad song, or watching something sad, it actually let me cry, and cry properly. Significant, much? I think the last time I cried real, gut wrenching sobs would have been when I was 18, or maybe even younger. I’ve always suppressed it. It’s probably not the strength I’d always insisted to myself that it was.
“Crazy ride” of course is disingenuous. I don’t really think of myself as “crazy” – well, when I’m not slumping, I don’t – but, like any other medical condition, it’s finally time to admit that there’s something slightly awry in how I think.
I’d not be entirely honest with myself and my friends if I blogged about everything else except this – so, allow me the melodrama of calling it a “crazy ride”, and feel free to watch the ride from time to time as I work out a solution.
Step 1 – this coming week, it’s time to make a doctor’s appointment for the non-physical.