26) Super-Beings and Delight

I write and figure stuff out by doing it

Crossword puzzles have become my new avoidance procrastination addictive thing. I paid for the NYT “games” feature a couple of weeks ago, and so now every morning I feed Gingerman and Rocky, make a pot of coffee, then sit down with my laptop for the games. I do Wordle first, then Spelling Bee, then Letterboxed, then the Crossword. If I’m really procrastinating, I do the “Tiles” game, even though I think it’s annoying and stupid.

My rationale is that I’m helping my brain by doing these things. In reality, I’m actually devoting around 90 minutes every single morning to avoiding my feelings. Once I have them safely pushed down and out of the way, I can move on to some other things I need to do, while cleverly side-stepping even more other things I need to do. I’m very agile at this.

I will probably keep the morning games thing going for awhile. Ever since getting sober, I latch onto ritualistic behavior patterns—a way to soothe my perpetual discomfiture. People tend to do what works until whatever it is they’re doing stops working. I know that’s what I do. I wish I was one of those super-beings who soothes their discomfiture with good, healthy habits like meditating in the morning and then trotting off to an exercise routine. I’m sure those things are far more effective than the many compulsions I’ve worn and discarded.

That’s not to say I don’t meditate or exercise. I do, but in a more sporadic, drive-by fashion. People that are able to take care of themselves in a consistent, daily way are super-beings to me. I’m not the same as them. It’s a dilemma, and I’d like to change and I keep a hopeful openness that one day I’ll match up my predilection for prescribed routines with habitual self care. Become more like the super-beings.

A therapist might say: What would that look like and feel like?

And I’d play the game and answer in earnest: Well, first thing, I’d do is still get up and make coffee and feed the cats. That part isn’t negotiable. Then I’d do some inspirational reading, after which I’d meditate for 10 minutes and get centered. Then I’d do Tai Chi or yoga for 30 minutes. I’d go for a walk for an hour, or the gym, or an exercise class.

Whatever it was, I’d get back and feel like a super-being.

Then the therapist might ask if I was willing to try that for a day, or a week.

And I would shrug and say, yeah maybe so.

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As a chronic optimist, I know that anything and everything can change for the better. Flip side is, as a practical realist, I also know things can suddenly change for the worse. Both are motivators.

I’m coming up on the one year anniversary since my mom died. I keep going back to my calendar and seeing exactly what was happening on each day: I keep a record of it. A year ago she was back in hospital, for the 2nd and last time. I was frantically trying to arrange a skilled nursing rehab for her to go to when she got discharged. She died suddenly, instead of having to do that. I think that was better; she never would have gotten out of a nursing home and gone back home.

I desperately want to remember other things about my mom than her death and the two weeks preceding it. I look at photos where she is smiling and looks happy and try to burn the image into my brain, but the ICU and the moaning and blood and horror always obliterate the photo. I hope this changes in time.

Maybe it’s this anniversary that has me so keen on pushing feelings away. If I drank, I’d probably be doing that instead of crossword puzzles. And on top of it all, the sadness around this time seems to act like a catalyst, setting off and activating any other well-buried sads.

Maybe I am kind of a super-being, the only kind I can be right now. Maybe we all are, because it’s really tough in the world. Things are breaking down. Right when some of us were trying to rebuild and some of us were just barely keeping up and some of us were already broken down.

But wait, there’s more! Side by side, next to all the aforementioned discomfort and sad, lost, lonely, confusion, I might get flooded with happiness too. It just happened in the supermarket. A song came on, a song I’ve never liked before, I think it’s the Doobie Brothers—the one that repeats “Woahhh wo, listen to the music..” and I was dancing down the aisles, high and happy for no reason at all.

I make a special point of noticing; acknowledging and expressing the appropriate DELIGHT (awful word) when I feel light and happy. I figure it certainly gets our attention when we aren’t happy, so we should at the very least take notice when we are.

Now. Sometimes if I don’t like a word, like “delight,” it helps to dispel my distaste by doing a…..dunt dunt dunnnnn…Etymological dive. Let’s go there—after all, a whopping 97% of poll respondents said “yes, we like KV’s Etymological Garden.”

proof.

Right after Etymological Garden is probably not the best time to ask you to upgrade to a subscription, but there might be a word nerd out there who feels the joy like I do and decides now is the time! This button is for you.

I’ve been paying more attention than usual to bands and music. After seeing The Big Moon on a Glastonbury festival recap video I checked them out more and decided I like them. The songs I listened to had a similar style as this one; starting off a little low key and then pushing on for some all out unexpected super melodic power.

Thank you for reading the Direction of Motion. Thank you for your interest and attention—I know there’s a lot demanding both and I appreciate what you spare for my writing and thoughts and music.

And mom, I miss you and hope you’re flying around free, unencumbered by earthly stuff. I know you would’ve loved reading every word I write and were my biggest champion. I also know you would have sat through probably ten or so performances of “Head Over Heels” at Zach. Knowing these things makes me smile and makes me forget about that day, a year ago, when your body shut down.