Yes it’s been a while. I don’t blame you if you’re not there. Or you hang up on me before reading anymore. That’s cool. This blog has been on radio silence for a few months. And while I’d love to say it’s because I’ve been on some exotic holiday learning to eat, love and pray I’m afraid the truth is I’ve just been very busy.
Very busy gasping for breath.
Very busy doing nothing.
Very busy looking for the turn off from Struggle Street.
It’s not that I haven’t had anything to say. It’s not that I haven’t been an avid observer of the world through my window, at my local Coles or in the playground of my child’s new Kindy. And it’s not that I haven’t been out and about in my world. I’ve been there. I’ve been social (media that is, not parties or dinners or anything that requires a modicum of effort).
I just haven’t wanted to communicate all that much. Which is a bit of an issue when you’ve started an on online community slash business slash writing blog thingie and then just…can’t.
So I was a bit fucked really.
Around December last year (yes, all those red wines ago) I tripped over myself and lost my way. I suddenly had no freakin’ clue which way to step and as a result got stuck in a state of complete and utter inertia. For me that state is generally found on my bathroom floor. A place I have sunk to more than once over these past few months.
Why? Because it’s quiet. The door has a lock on it. The cool tiles…oh, you want to know what made me sink? Sure, sorry. Silly me. Of course every mother knows the sanctuary that is the locked bathroom!
My latest fall from sanity was caused by a combination of things. None of which were significant on their own but when stacked up one after the other combined to create the perfect storm of depression and guilt and anxiety and a complete cluster fuck of a somewhat mid-life crisis. I’m 45. Surely that qualifies as a mid-life crisis?
I was stagnant and without ambition. A pretty hard combo to fight your way out of. And I’m not there yet. But I am back at my keyboard. Which is a good start (I hope you’ll agree).
I am a highly functioning depressive. Isn’t that a great label? Feel free to steal it or use it to inspire your own life. I’m very good at carrying on with life and social media posts with nary a sign that the wheels have fallen off. Let’s be frank, many mothers have made an art out of just getting shit done when they’d rather be somewhere else. Little people won’t feed themselves and that bloody iPad always needs to be recharged!
During the last few months I’ve become hyper-sensitive to all the food, fitness and fabulous bullshit that’s in the media. I know. I know. Long time readers will recognise the irony in that statement. This blog was built on my special take on food and fitness. I think my focus on that industry (“wellness” – fucking air quotes intentional) was really the beginning of my latest downfall. I was so sick of seeing one transformation post after another. One new recipe after another that was designed to make me feel happy about the food I was eating. It started having an impact on how I viewed my world so I stopped viewing my world that way. I stopped engaging with that line of conversation on social media and I re-wired my social feeds.
I started to spend time listening to, and watching, media about lives less fortunate. Because, in my misery, I needed to remind myself that I live a very fortunate life. Not a Kardashian-raking-in-the-millions fortunate life just a life that means I probably won’t ever live on the streets (*touches wood*).
A friend of mine often says, “When you don’t know what to do just do anything”. So, in an effort to ensure that my life doesn’t take to the streets I did do something. Earlier this year I auditioned for a game show where I’m bound to win a million dollars. Because why wouldn’t you go on national television when you’ve been in hiding for months?
No matter how many stumbles I take or silly efforts I make to pick myself up the fact remains that I am surrounded by excellent people. I am indeed, very fortunate. But no amount of home truths or caring friends can convince me to get up off my bathroom floor until I’m good and ready.
You’ve just got to wait for that shit to pass…and for the right audition.