From a Place of Fear

While lying in bed, trying to make myself get out of bed, I spent some time musing about why I am at such a low place in my life. I have less than $3000 in the bank. I still need to find work. I generally stay in bed until noon or 1. I take a shower about every 5 days or so (I often lose track). I haven't finished my initial read-through on my novel; I read over half of it about a week ago and haven't touched it since. I don't exercise. I don't go for walks. My diet is crap.

Why? I, who have done so many different things in my life and who have made major changes and gone on to success, am stuck and passive. I am afraid. It all comes down to fear.

Detailing each individual fear connected to each individual lack is no longer useful: I believe it's all fused into one solid, darkly shining ball of fear and either it has overwhelmed me past my ability to cope or I have surrendered to it or both. Even that doesn't matter anymore. What matters is that virtually everything I do comes from or passes through a place of fear; fear controls me.

Inside, I want someone to save me. I want someone to take my hand and lead me out of bed early in the morning, lead me through exercise, make sure I eat fruit and vegetables, sit with me while I go through my novel, help me look for work (actually, I want someone to either hand me a job or tell me exactly the right work I should be doing right now), and make sure I go to bed early enough at night.

I don't think I've ever been this passive before in my life, no matter what trials and traumas I've faced. I feel ashamed.

I want to be active. I want to be in control of my own life. I want to make my choices from a positive place. I want to be strong and happy and healthy. I want abundance in all good things. I want to have enough money for all that I need and want, including enough so I can live on my own again, independently and comfortably. This doesn't seem like too much to want.

It's Not Raining

I've heard from my friends that they have been worried about me and I don't blame them. I haven't been this deep in the Abyss for a while. I wondered if I was stuck there for good this time: each time it seems as if it will be forever.

Then Deb and I chatted on IM the other day. Deb supports me, cheers me on, gives me pep talks, and when she feels necessary, gives me come-to-Goddess talks. Using examples from her own life as well as her exquisite personal wisdom, she talked me through a point — out of a bubble? past a barrier? around and over a ledge on a vertical rock face? — and somehow into a better frame of mind.

I am not well, but I am better than I was last week, and that's enough for now. I am standing between rain storms and enjoying the white stratus clouds and wispy blue sky. And I am thinking about Deb's description of how to get out of the Abyss: a spoonful of dirt at a time.

I saw my psych on Wednesday. I wish I could see her every week, but because she is not covered by my new insurance I have to pay her myself so I've backed down to every other week. She liked the "spoonful of dirt" analogy and nodded her head sympathetically when I told her I was hoping it would be more like a dramatic breakthrough.

Michele gave me three things to do:

1. Engage with myself. When I am distracting myself or escaping, as in playing a game or reading in lieu of being aware or acting, re-engage in the moment and really be there. Don't escape. Don't distract.
2. What do I need? What do I want? I am very clear about what I don't need or want — I tell myself and others all the time. I don't want to keep living with my friends. I don't want to work on the Eastside. I don't want to change careers. In fiction, those are all considered "negative goals" and considered poor goals to set for your character. It's better to have positive goals, something to move toward rather than something to move away from.
3. I forgot. Of course this one is getting away from me. I'll remember it. Eventually.