I got back from Thailand feeling pretty effing centered, let me tell you. We spent a lot of time in meditation and doing all kinds of what you might call spirit work--shamanic blessings and Buddhist blessings and time in nature and breathing time and time together. The light in the jungle is pretty soft and diffuse in February and everywhere is lush and green. Time works differently there. Your body is in serious danger of turning into a huge pile of smiling, relaxed, tuned-in ooze.
It was a break from mom-ing and professor-ing and all the other duties. But I also gave myself a vacation from all of my daily worries: answering emails, doing my hair, putting on makeup. I packed maybe 3 outfits for the whole trip. This meant I was completely disgusting by the end of the ten days, but it also meant I had a lot of free time to not worry about how I looked and just totally, totally experience the whole she-bang. There was one moment at the foot of a waterfall that was along the lines of an out-of-body experience. So that was nice.
Plus: elephants. All over, everywhere we went. They are good to be around, on a soul level.
So even though it took 36 heinous hours for me to get back to the states, I felt pretty good. I would have liked that feeling to last.
Hilarious.
I got back on a Saturday night and had to teach Monday night. I spent Sunday puttering around the house, I think, doing laundry, straightening up, going through mail.
Then Monday happened. And then two weeks went by, with many, many fourteen-hour work days and no days off. A few deadlines happened. Also, a monster NSF grant. A conference. Plus, my grandma was feeling really needy after not seeing me for ten days. And my kids. Maybe E., though he hides it well. Definitely Peanut. For sure Peanut. This happened to him while I was gone, and he still hasn't quite gotten over it:
I don't know what his expression is intended to convey here, but it is along the lines of, "Why must I suffer so?"
I'm tempted to go on, but that would be the PBSD talking. One terrible symptom of PBSD is the desire to list everything you have accomplished from your to do list on social media. Part of this is wanting someone to notice that you are dying inside while maintaining an exterior of gettin-er-done-ness. It's also because when I'm suffering from the throes of EBD (Extreme Busy-ness Disorder) my life is run as one large to do list, and then I start communicating with people in list form, even when the Extreme Busy-ness has turned into PBSD and I am no longer heinously busy. I can feel this happening to me. Rather than connecting with the human in front of me, my eyes glaze over, and I either start thinking about how I can check one more thing off the list or I feel a compulsive need to go over with them what I have already checked. As if this is important.
It's a sickness. I know that I have done this to many of you, my loved ones. Dear All of Facebook: I apologize.
The other really bad symptom of PBSD is when, even as the Extreme Busy-ness has passed and life is just it's old kooky, full self, you still feel and act as if you are suffering from EB. For example: I woke up this morning with an open calendar and many things on the list. This is a happy occurrence, because for the first day in a long time, I would actually have some time to accomplish the things on the list before bedtime. I might even have an hour of free time!
Boy, did I have some plans. Let me tell you.
But then a bunch of wee little piddly emergencies happened that required emotional decision-making and clarity on my part, and one thing list-making does not give you, usually, is emotional clarity. For that, you have to sit still for a while or talk to someone who might be able to listen and perhaps even offer useful advice. You need some space. You need to be in touch with your center, your feel good, your north star. Not in touch with a list.
Then a meltdown occurred because I was not, after all, going to get the things on the list done. And I very badly needed some space.
I can see now that this meltdown was, oddly, a happy occurrence. Because I did call someone (thanks Dad!) who was able to listen to my emotional quandary and, in fact, offer some very good advice. I was able to handle my quandary (which was never on the list) from a place of integrity and clarity and then, as if by some miracle, I felt the hold of PBSD, and the list, loosen its grip on me.
Yep, a meltdown brought some clarity. Hallelujah.
Which brings me here. Because every once in a while it is good to do something not on the list, like blogging. It is good to listen to what you want and need in the moment, and not just to what you must do. I am happy to have my perspective back. And some space.
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