I went to yoga today and set my intention for the class to be all the positive things about living in this city. For those of you who don’t know, I don’t like living here, it’s a beautiful city, great restaurants, anything anyone could want, but it’s Pleasantville. That movie with Reese Witherspoon and Tobey MacGuire, a place that’s so perfect it’s like living in a fake box of rules and smiles. My psychologist says I’m a square peg trying to fit into a round hole here, but I’m here because my ex is here and hence my kids are here. The unfortunate part is that it makes me unhappy unless I work very hard and does not help my BPD, I constantly feel caged into my apartment or seeking people out.
Back to my intentions, I came up with a few, my yoga practice was great, I put the energy into these 4 things.
1. My kids are here
2. My mum and sister are here
3. I love my access to yoga
4. Hugh always shows me something new about this city
5. My psychologist and psychiatrist are here
Given that Hugh has only been showing me about the city for about 6 months, that’s 4 things, that strikes me as rather meagre.
I just went away for 2 weeks and came back, yesterday was fine, had my kids, saw my sister, watched some telly and snuggled with the boys. Today started off good, quiet morning of reflection on my fears of people forgetting me if they were not with me. I will write about this later. Went to the above yoga class, came back pretty drained and tired but made an effort to be up and up for the kids. To the movies we went but I was flagging, that slow seep of apathy was starting to come over me, just wanted to go home and felt very snappy and irritable. Thought maybe if we went to mum’s house it would be a distraction but I was essentially a zombie, thinking what a horrid mum I was because my patience was strung so very tight and my anxiety was making me bark at everything, which made me feel worse. The dread of the coming weeks was sitting tight on my mind, Monday was going to be a scary leap back into nothingness.
I’m back home now in bed, writing, the kids are occupied, and I know I need to come up with “things” to keep me inflated tomorrow or I’ll just be a big bummer of a lump in what is a beautiful weekend and I don’t want to waste the day with the kids floating about in a half daze of nothingness. I just cannot think of anything I want to do but ruminate on the fact that I’m back on the same treadmill with nothing to look forward to but making it through. Groundhog day.
It’s hard coming back to a place you’re not happy to be in, I don’t get that euphoria like when I step off in the islands, like I’ve come home, and the smile hits my face. I have a perpetual sense of dread of the work that it takes for me to be chipper here.
This is my brief, pathetic, I know I should rally blog, this is only Day 2, if I’m dark and stormy on Day 2 it sux.