coping mechanisms

The other day I got to eat lunch with my husband. This is rare because we do not usually work anywhere near each other. He was going to stop at the booze store on the way to give a co-worker a lift home, and asked if I'd like anything. No thanks, I said. I don't think drinking would be at all good for me right now.

My husband is aware that things have been strange with me for quite some time. I have been aware only more recently.

I have cried for no reason at all. I have been miserably sad.

And yet I have also had some of the best times of my life. But.

It's usually not a good sign when I'd rather stay in than go to my dance class. I love my dance class. And part of what I love so much about it is that it is orderly, organized, and occurs at a set time every week. This means I have the joy of anticipating it. I know I love it. How many days now? Is it Wednesday yet?

I need that structure and dependability. And it has to be something I LOVE with people who I either love or don't speak to. What do I mean by that? The women I dance with are amazing people. They are my soul community. Together we speak the language of dance. And it is incredible, uplifting, intense, spiritual, physical, and greatly enhances my sense of self worth. On the other end there is the yoga that I have periodically done. It is the same but without speaking. It is my time to spend an hour and a half in conscious movement with strangers, completely silent. I'm not there to make friends. I'm there for the group body movement and calm mind. And to get really, really sweaty. And afterward? I feel amazing.

I started dancing in Saskatoon because I needed to get out of the house. I figured I'd pick something I liked because even if I ended up disliking the people (it's happened - case in point being my first bellydance teacher, from whom I still managed to learn quite a bit even if we weren't really on speaking terms at the end) I still love the dance and could grow my skills.

I started going to yoga for very similar reasons - a desire for physical activity and a desire to have something to do on the weekend.

Last weekend I went for a drive. It was long. I picked a road that ended up going nowhere but it was dirt and mostly free from traffic. It was a good road for crying. I listened to music of the lovely Shelley Foss and cried and cried and cried. It was Saturday morning.

What was I missing so strongly? What did I need?

The answer was and is simple.

A month or so ago my best friend moved to Africa. I think it's been longer, actually. And I didn't hear from her at all for the first 4 weeks. When I called her, I discovered it was because she'd spent most of that time in hospital. And other things, just as bad, matters of the heart. They're not mine to blog about. But we talked. And the call was only dropped once. And we talked for a long time.

But that's been it. And we used to talk almost every day.

We used to get together on the weekend, usually for the purpose of going shopping, often followed by lunch. This came to be our Sunday thing, until she found a church that fit for her, but still we talked.

I am currently searching for an additional best friend. I may have found somebody. She is a very different person than my far away best friend. I think that being her best friend will require a high level of independence, self-worth, and possibly sociability in groups. All of this is just fine. And I think I'm up for it. But I have to confess I'm also afraid of getting my hopes up. I don't have close, intimate friendships with people on a constant basis. I have very close friends who live far enough away that we mostly write to each other and occasionally get a weekend of time face to face. I have one intimate relationship, and it is with my husband. Romantic too, as it should be. But otherwise I've always kept people at arm's length.

By now somebody's probably wondering how I feel about my friend moving to Africa. The answer? Totally excited for her. Especially as soon as she gets healthy and things start going right. She's met some good people there and it sounds like it is exactly what she needs. For her, I am very grateful for all of that. It is time that things start going really well for her. And I am never one to turn down an adventure, even if it's not really my cup of tea. I've left friends on a whim a few times. Australia, New Zealand, southeast Asia...

And that's hard too, especially the being alone part. Sure, you meet people. But start hanging around with somebody and then go somewhere else, apart, and there's a pang of loss of companionship that burns in the soul. Traveling, if nothing else, is extremely good for soul searching. I wrote a lot of letters. Took a few pictures. I even bought myself a guitar to keep myself company at night. (It was quieter than a drum.)

What are my quality coping strategies?

When I'm angry, writing or making art is often effective. Or digging in the garden. This only works in the spring before it's planted....

When I realized I needed quality companionship outside of the house, I declared Sunday date day with my husband - we'll take turns picking something to do. Last weekend we went to the beach. This weekend it's his turn. Weekend after that is mine and we'll probably go to the zoo.

Dance is definitely a coping strategy, but something I much prefer to do in a group.

Riding my bike also gives me good perspective and thinking time, but is not something I should do if I am crying as that makes my perception of traffic around me fairly sketchy.

Walking is when I do my best thinking. I carry a notepad these days. I can't write letters while I walk (but oh if I could....) but I can make lists and plans. Walking is also good solitude time. But it's not really that solitary. There's a rabbit I meet almost every morning on my way to work. And there are always robins and dogs. Their owners usually try to keep the dogs heeled, but occasionally I get to greet one. In the winter this happened with a golden retriever. I reached out with my hand, as I always would. I was wearing my sock monkey mittens. This thoroughly confused the dog, who began to bark at my mittens. Which caused me to use the hand in question to puppet the mitten. Poor doggy!

I also grow things. Summer is the best for this - there is *always* something to do in the yard. And the best part of planting vegetables is going out on a weekend morning and picking what's ripe for breakfast. Awesomeness. Plants inside are pretty good too, but flowers and houseplants require very little attention. Veggies usually take up a bit more effort.

Housecleaning is good if I am anxious and do not know why. This is usually a very effective way to get the house really super awesomely clean. Anxiety makes a good scrubbing pad. Housecleaning never fixes or solves anything but it's an outlet for that awful anxious energy and it gives me time to think and try to figure out what's wrong and how I can fix it.