'Administrative Anxiety'

I haven't allowed myself THIS particular luxury - sitting on my sofa snug under a blanket, idly writing and crocheting away - in months, maybe longer...June of last year?  Is that possible?  Sadly, I think it is and I can probably search out the exact date, if shift the cobwebs. But I don't want to do that; sometimes, especially for an archivist, perhaps it is better, leaving the recent past to fade, let the scar tissue harden, hope the sutures are fine enough you don't notice the jagged tears. 

If I were writing a musical, there would have to be at least a song dedicated to this concept, the sister to 'High Anxiety,' perhaps? I spend time I could be other things debating if there be tap dancing? There must be tap dancing. 

There would have to be a scene where I stare at the things undone long enough, how can I transform the anxiety into kinetic energy that will get things accomplished. Because...I like getting things accomplished. I like getting things done.  I appreciate order. I thrive in these environments, as much as I also thrive in incubation and planning mode.  But at the moment...it's all a bit too far behind me.

I don't talk a lot about my health issues, because they are usually managed. I hesitate to use the phrase 'under control.' But there are issues - seasonal depression, ulcerative colitis with a propensity for duodenal ulcers, endometriosis, ovarian cysts - all things exacerbated by stressful situations.  2021 turned up with a great many stressful situations, mostly external.  The health flare-up  it coincides with a time where I have been doing a lot of self-and- soul-work, overhauling...tinkering under the hood of Mt mental and emotional schematics.  So now there is a small perfect storm that has me short-tempered, too far into my reserves for my own comfort. It will pass, life will do what life does and move along. And so will I. I KNOW that. 

Recently, I had dinner with a friend who is in a new-ish relationship. It was part planning meeting for a community event we run every January and part catch up. Over the course of the catch-up, he was asking me about my dating situation and he asked if I had a list. 

'I do, actually.' I went through the list with him and realised there was one thing on the list tha really stood out: that the person needed to have a military (or law enforcement) background.  'I've always assumed it is because a person from that background will intuitively understand those aspects of my personality, as well as my character.'

'Yeah, but how has that worked out?' And it is an incredibly valid question.

So, now to pause on that for a moment, to reflect on  my own relationship with th US Army, as both an Army BRAT and a failed soldier, I realise that the relationship is essentially a trauma bond. Does it really come as any surprise that my romantic  relationships that have had that particular dynamic have had a vein of abusiveness to them? That they have included variations of gaslighting, propaganda and bullying?  If we accept the assumption that familiarity breeds contempt, what do we do when our unconscious confuses familiarity with intimacy?

I suppose we pause. Take a moment, give ourselves a bit of grace, we shift the balance so we can claim the space we need to recover from the trauma bond, from the layers of cognitive dissonance that we have pulled over ourselves to keep ourselves feeling safe.  It's hard to do, though, especially when you've spent extreme amounts of time in situations  of repetition compulsion, buying into the promises of what might come, of indoctrination and fear.  At least, that is what I am doing...take a pause, spending the day on the sofa and in bed, doing small household bits that bring me joy but don't leave me feeling frazzled.  It's very different to last year's birthday...quieter, but it doesn't feel lonely. Weirdly, I feel more grounded, less addled, or addled in a different, but more nuanced way. I'm not dreading the next year nor will I hide from what it bringing my way.