psychology

The Shape of My Demons

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It’s okay not to be okay. Especially right now.

For the last few years, anyone with anxiety has been tweaking pretty constantly- including me. The uncertainty and chaos in the world (particularly in the US) has provided almost an ambient level of background fear and disquiet.

Then the pandemic hit… then the protests... and now there are massive forest fires blanketing the West Coast in a dirty orange haze of smoke and ash. My wife and I are fine for right now, but if the pandemic wasn’t already giving us cabin fever, choking on the air as soon as we walk outside surely will.

For the last 7 years or so, exercise has been the outlet for my stress and anxiety. Running, especially- the feeling of constant motion, cold air in my lungs, the smell of trees and leaves revitalizes me. And there’s always the “Zone-” the space in a run where your mind blanks and everything goes quiet. You move down an endless trail- your brain falls silent, your train of thought stalls, and all you need to do to maintain this perfect bliss is just keep moving.

It helped keep my demons asleep… but now I can’t go running. Not without feeling like I chainsmoked an entire tobacco plantation. I’m stuck indoors for the time being- and my demons are still there with me.

A person sits against a concrete wall with their arms on their knees and their head down. They are barefoot on a concrete floor.
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
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The Numbs

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I wandered into the living room and sat cross-legged on the floor, my back against the filing cabinet with our TV on it. We had gotten the TV for free, but neither of us watched it much, except for in-home movie nights. Em was crashed out on our couch, listening to podcasts and booping at a game on her phone.

“It’s been so weird,” I said, as Cleo wandered up and batted curiously at the strings on my hoodie. “Ever since last Thursday, I’ve just felt so numb. Like I’m stuck in a bubble and floating through the world.”

Em paused for a minute and thought. “You know how the Stages of Grief can apply to more than just people dying? Like they can apply to any sudden change in life? It sounds like you’re in the denial stage.”

Cleo has given up trying to eat my clothing and instead curls up in my lap, presenting her chin for scratches. I oblige and raise an eyebrow toward Em. “Okay… What am I grieving over then?”

”The fact that, as healthy as you have lived, and as much care as you’ve taken of your body- all the effort to get healthy and fit- you can still get sick from something you never saw coming.”

Young man on a park bench Seated with his head in his hands, face down.
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Phase 1- The Uncanny Valley of Restauranting

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The day was already cooler for a Portland summer- way cooler than the oppressive heat wave we were promised for later in the week- and as the sun goes down behind the buildings and hills of the Willamette Valley, it’s starting to just get slightly chilly.

Perfect weather for eating outside and getting a cold beer or two- as long as you don’t mind your face feeling a bit warm.

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The Silence Between Sips

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Outside on the street, a car alarm is blaring. It’s not exactly a suburban neighborhood, but quiet enough that a random car alarm is more than background noise to a spring night.

I’m in the rocking chair I’ve adopted as mine- having trash-picked, thoroughly sprayed, cleaned, and draped it with an afghan. I’m sipping some rye whiskey while my wife alternates between her keyboard and piano, writing assignments for students. There’s some random “quiet time” music from Spotify playing, but it’s getting a little too happy and janky. I’m trying to write.

I need quiet, but with a little noise mixed in- like even the best whiskey needs a little drop of water to open up everything it has to offer.

Some jellybeans are a good addition too.
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More Than A Paycheck: Why Work Matters

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Hello there, friends and neighbors. Hopefully you are all keeping safe and well, and that la vida casa isn’t getting to you too much.

Since the layoffs started, I’ve been trying to reach out to my culinary friends however I can just to check up on them. It really is the cruelest irony- we’re folks who “never have enough time” and now…. we’re kinda drowning in it.

Of course, it’s not just “what shall I do with all my free time” that’s got former kitchen workers in a froth… but it’s also not just the financial worries of being unemployed/laid off, though God knows that’s more than enough.

What I’m finding even more among not just culinary people, but ANYONE who’s been working in a given field their whole lives and suddenly finds themselves “non-essential” is the need to get back to work for work’s sake.

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