Unwanted companions

I’ve always been adept at finding something to do when alone. Really, there’s no shortage of fun to be had, books to read, movies to watch, things to think about, music to listen to, writing projects to work on. I love them all. Passionately.

It’s not that I don’t like spending time with others. I find a deep sense of satisfaction when I connect with another person, either friend or stranger. It’s just that I’ve never discounted the benefit of being alone. I’ve relished it. Until recently.

Since the night I went to bed as myself and woke up the following morning in someone else’s life, I’ve had trouble finding things to do when confronted with time alone. Instead of feeling like it’s my lucky day, I end up wondering what I’m going to do to make the time disappear. Even reading, which has always been my preferred method of self-occupation, is a struggle. I can maintain my concentration for a while, but troubling memories of the past and worries about the present, my two new constant companions, creep back in and I lose interest in the book. Or the movie. Or the project.

To my friends and family, this is not a shout out for you to come whisk me away to another place to be with other people. I can say, with all honesty, that I am not in trouble. I’m ok. Really. It’s just that even when I’m with others, it’s a rare moment for me to leave my new companions behind and completely focus my attention on something else. Most of the time, it’s impossible.

The good news is that I now have confirmation that my new reality is not permanent. It’s going to take some time. I get that. If anyone can tell me how long it’s going to take, that’d be great. Like, really great. But, at least for the moment, I have proof that I can find myself again. I’m still in here somewhere.

The day after Thanksgiving, I hopped on a plane headed for a few days in my favorite city and some time with Lisa, one of my two best friends. Not only did we have a list of fabulous things to do and see, but she also happens to be a psychologist who specializes in PTSD. Thankfully, I am not in need of that extreme level of care, but it was pretty darn nice to have my own personal psychologist for a few days.

I think this should become a thing for anyone suffering from psychological trauma. Vacation therapy. Talk and walk. Choose the place that makes you happiest, eat nice meals, see interesting things, take in a couple of shows, and get lost with a psychologist for a while. Let me tell you, it worked wonders for me.

Lisa was my first phone call that terrible morning and has talked to me daily ever since. Sometimes even more than once a day, especially in the beginning. She’s on a first name basis with my demons. Knowing that I had her all to myself for almost five days meant that I didn’t have to rush. We could take our time and really explore the things hanging over my head. And, we did. We talked a lot. But, and this is the really exciting part, there were entire chunks of time when I actually forgot about my two pesky companions. Sometimes for hours in a row. And, when they reappeared, they were subdued. They were no longer jumping up and down, clapping their hands in my face and demanding my attention. They were standing off to one side, quiet and patient, waiting for me to acknowledge them. After more than six months of their insidious companionship, they stopped harassing me. I was free. Free.

So, what did I do with my rediscovered freedom? I became me again. I laughed. I talked. I observed everything around me. I had energy and enthusiasm. We walked the city. No joke, we walked more than forty miles in four-and-a-half days. Forty miles! We saw two Broadway shows, ate amazing meals, gazed at some of our favorite art, and enjoyed the city all decked out for Christmas. It was fabulous!

I’m going to fill you in on the details soon. I’ve got plenty of pictures and stories to share. As for tonight, Mr. C has a friend over and I need to entertain myself for the rest of the evening. Maybe I’ll read. Maybe I’ll watch something funny, or nostalgic. Or, maybe, I’ll simply sit in front of the fire with a cup of tea warming my hands, Jasper curled into a ball in my lap, Barnaby and Watson bookending my feet, and happy thoughts bouncing around in my brain.