The anxiety has diminished greatly for which I am overwhelmingly grateful but it in its place there is a grave heaviness, a denseness which is physical as well as mental. These are all certainly connected.
I took a walk. I made myself do it. I know it's the best thing possible to be done for any sort of mental problem whether anxiety or depression or grief or indecision or whatever is troubling the mind and soul. There is very little which cannot be helped by a walk. This is something I do believe although I am not one of those who thinks that exercise can cure any ill. When I was going through my worst anxiety a few years ago, I was doing yoga three days a week and walking quite regularly. I was eating as well as I've ever eaten in my life, and yes, taking my supplements.
Hell. I think I was even drinking green tea.
But. I have walked. Not so fast and not so far, but I have done it. The blackberries which I had so much hope for during our earlier spring when we were getting rain daily are still tight and hard and green. I so wish it would rain. We are back to bone dry. The sun just went behind a cloud and in that very second, a few frogs began to croak. They are as thirsty for the rain as I am. Probably more.
I have to do something about my closet. And when I say "do something" I mean that I have to get rid of things. This is a common theme for all of us, isn't it? It is spilling over with clothes which I have not worn in a decade and yet, which I am loathe to cull. And yet, oh. I must. When I went shopping with May and Lily yesterday, I actually bought two shirts. And a sweater.
One, a Frida Kahlo T-shirt and May got one too. We bought them in a store in the mall which none of us should even be seen in for more than one reason but the main one being that when I went to check fiber content, I felt that it should read, "10% cotton, 90% Bones of Bangladeshis." I mean really. There is no getting around this.
And yet, it is such an awesome T-shirt. And extremely reasonably priced. Of course.
Then we went to another store. The Gap. What's up with fluorescent-colored garments this year? You could wear those things to direct traffic in. We were not impressed with the Gap's offerings but both of us, independently of each other, found and selected the same exact black tank top. She held hers up and said, "I'm sort of liking this."
I showed her what I was holding.
We bought them. I also bought a very nice sweater for ten bucks. It was on the sale rack and very soft and thus, made of the bones of the softest and tenderest of Bangladeshis, and I will be surprised when I find it next winter because I will have forgotten that I bought it. It is this sweater which is forcing my hand on the closet situation. I know that if I don't do something about that closet, I won't find it next winter. It will have disappeared into the chaotic morass of clothing in there, never to be seen again. And really I do want to find it. I do want to wear it.
I have a few hours before I become MerMer and so I should get in there with bags and determination.
I do have bags.
It's the determination which I am sorely lacking. And energy. I know that if I laid down on the bed I would never get up and so the best thing, I think, is to keep moving.
Well, it's a plan. One should have a plan and a goal, right? When life is overwhelming and you cannot do a damn thing about the Big Things, it is best, perhaps, to do as much as one can about the tiny ones.
Take a walk. Clean a closet. Wash the dishes. Do the laundry.
Don't lay down. Unless you do. That can be a plan too and has a certain dignity in it if done correctly.
I'll let you know how it goes.