Healing

Healing. What healed you this year? Was it sudden, or a drip-by-drip evolution? How would you like to be healed in 2011? (Author: Leoni Allen)

Healing takes a long time. Whether it’s hearts or papercuts, there is part of me that always wants – even expects – tomorrow to be fantastic, even if today was shit. I have been lucky to never have a long, drawn out illness or injury and I don’t know how people do it, just heal one tiny cell at a time for months, months, months, years.

I think I’ve mentioned here before that when I get seriously overtired, like so tired that you forget you’re tired and think you’re just crazy, I get depressed. The world is too much with me and what am I even doing here and I would so love to get out of this life.

I am not suicidal. I don’t wish for death, I just wish for a different life. The life of a successful, urban woman who has three big dogs and lots of friends and throws dinner parties once a week. The life of a backpacker in a mountainous country. The life of a rancher. The life of a factory worker who lives in a tiny apartment but doesn’t care because she sits in the park all day when she’s not working, writing poetry on a bench and feeding pigeons. You get it, right? The life of someone who has a life nothing like me.

If I can maintain enough perspective to remember that I am overtired and remind myself that if I get through the day and get a good night’s sleep I will love my life again in the morning, then it’s all right. But sometimes my brain won’t see it. It gets stubborn. It says mean things like, “You chose this and now it sucks and you’re stuck with it.” Or it says, “Tomorrow will look exactly like today and you’d better get used to it.”

The other day I couldn’t kick the sad. I just couldn’t kick it. The world was dark and horrible. The news was dark and horrible. The children were bright and adorable, but I just didn’t have the energy to do my job. I felt like crying.

So I let myself cry. And I let myself say all the horrible things that I knew – I hoped – I didn’t mean. Out loud. And when I was done saying those horrible things, my regular brain kicked back in and calmed me down and I could say all the other things out loud, like, “I built this life because I wanted it and even though it isn’t always perfect I am perfectly happy with my choices.” And “Suck it, depressed brain. You are not the boss of me. Go play with some Lego and read your kids a book about Saturn and when it’s bedtime, sleep like you couldn’t possibly sleep any harder.”

Dudes. I know what you are thinking right now. You’re making that twirly-finger motion at your head. I am fine. I got a good night’s sleep and I was singing like a lark the next morning.

So for me, healing, it comes in drips. I rant, I feel a bit better. I write, I feel a bit better. I sleep, I feel a bit better. A lot better, actually.

I can’t imagine healing any other way. And for 2011 I want more of the same. But more sleep, though. Let me be clear on that point.

Also healing: walks in the dark to see Christmas lights. Behold, my personal favourite part of Christmas in this part of the Mizzle: Santa Face.

What do you think it looks like from the inside?