29 January 2009

Day 18 (again) - Deep breathing

The dogs seem very anxious and restless today. It's entirely possible they're getting it from me. I'm restless, too, willing to pace with them through the kitchen, the living room, and down the hallway that brings us back to the kitchen, over and over again.

Of course, the pups aren't as focused or capable as I am and constantly pester me to be let inside or back out. At certain points it feels like all I can do to walk back and forth in my room, as though passing through that one point near the middle will, at some point, transport me to some different place, some different situation.

Last week I liked these afternoon hours of solitude. I could put my headphones on, sit at the kitchen table, draw and paint, ignore the dogs, and get pleasing amounts of work done. Today I've sat down a number of times, brush in hand, and simply can't make the usual flow mindset stick. I've made tiny, tiny amounts of progress, but my heart is beating fast and I worry my hands will shake at the wrong moment.

Right now, all this week, the times I'm alone in the house are the worst. Every weekday there are at least four hours during which I'm by myself (save for the dogs), and I don't know if I'm going to overload from the internal pressure of things I want to discuss or express, or collapse from the internal vacuum of not getting the attention I'm used to.

Here's something that makes me laugh and cry at the same time from the wikipedia page of Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs (a part of my psychology class that has stuck with me since high school):

The lower four layers of the pyramid are what Maslow called "deficiency needs" or "D-needs". With the exception of the lowest needs, physiological ones, if the deficiency needs are not met, the body gives no indication of it physically, but the individual feels anxious and tense.


Haha, you think Dr. Maslow?

I realize I'm repeating myself. This is the only thing I've been able to say this week. I know that.


Later on things got a little better, with people around and talking to my mom on the phone for about a half hour. At least I have high hopes for tomorrow. I'm just praying that next week isn't a repeat of this week.

1 comment:

Jenny said...

I think it's true though, what you say, that we are alone in our anguish. The hardest battles we face, I firmly believe, our within ourselves and no one else will know how hard they were or what they cost. But I believe bringing them into the light, with voice or art, lessens the anguish. (Though that doesn't happen until later. Usually if I've been really vulnerable in a blog, I feel everything all over again, only ten times worst. Later on, though, I experience freedom from my own story, if that makes sense.)