Back to reality.

 I'm trying to figure out the best way to talk through what has been going on with me, but I confess it's tough.

The only way I can describe how I was feeling in the last month is thus: In The Phantom Tollbooth - which, if you haven't read this book, I highly recommend it! - the protagonist, Milo, finds himself in a dark, hazy place called the Doldrums, "where nothing ever happens and nothing ever changes." There, he sits in a state of apathy, with no desire to do anything or even think, and he loses track of time and space. He is only able to push through the fog thanks to an alarm-clock dog named Tock - a literal wake-up call (seriously, this book is a gem!). 

As a kid, the Doldrums seemed like a scary place to me, and only as an adult did I realize that the word doldrum meant "a state or period of inactivity, stagnation, or depression" - which explains so much about the Doldrums world in the book, and why my younger self thought it was scary.

Friends: if you've noticed my absence in my blog and elsewhere since April 1, it's because I have been in the Doldrums.

I've been in this dark space before, which is how I could identify this uncomfortable state of being. That's what makes the Doldrums such a scary, dreadful place. It stays with you even after you've left, hovering in the periphery, waiting. And then gradually it creeps up on you when you've least expected, until you're engulfed in shadow and look around to think, "Where am I?" before all sense of reality disappears into the void.

My life is uncertain these days - well, I suppose it's been uncertain for the last 7 years, but that uncertainty has been more overwhelming this past month. In January, I had already come to terms with doing the chemo again and hoped it would be somewhat resolved by now, only to find that a complication had found its way in. And as much as I relished the break from chemo - because it's been really challenging to navigate - there were new factors to consider (steroids, bleh) and, frankly, I was annoyed to have *one more thing* to worry about. But it's difficult to put those feelings into words. Especially when it seems like people don't want to hear about the bad stuff, and I only want to share good, uplifting material that makes me look brave and strong. 

The reality is: I am just as weak and fallible as the next person, maybe more so.

To say that I like to plan is an understatement. Anyone who knows me knows that I am the uber-planner. I take everything (and everyone) into consideration when coordinating a trip, event, or activity. My husband jokingly calls me Dr. Strange because he says I can see multiple timelines at once and can plan based on the most optimal timeline. So then, the uncertainty of all this has put me into a mild state of panic, not one that gives a physical attack but rather one that short-circuits my brain where I lose all timelines and don't know how to proceed. It's like coming to a crossroads and agonizing over which path to take. 

But I trudge through each day with a smile plastered on my face, silently suffering and mentally spiraling, just trying to muster the energy to continue on like nothing's wrong. Or, I find I can't fake it anymore and it's easier to just be silent for a while.

The other day, I was talking with a friend about my struggles this past month - about how it was hard for me to feel present when so much of my life was uncertain - and she brought up the idea of control (and loss of it). It's true that I'm someone who likes to be in control of my life, my surroundings, my activities. I'm a creature of habit, and I like things to be a particular way without much room for deviation. When something doesn't go according to what I had envisioned, then I feel lost in the Doldrums and frustrated that I can't get out. 

Depression and anxiety have weighed me down for many years, like pulling a two-headed animal by the leash that gets bigger and heavier as I get older. They trade off - some days Anxiety makes me manic and hyper-focused on the most mundane things, stress and fear overriding any sense of rational thought. And then Depression takes over, slowly rolling in like a wave, and my bed is my fortress where I forget who I am and what day it is and all the responsibilities that come with it. I'm grateful that my version of Tock the alarm-clock dog comes in the form of my husband, who rallies me when possible - but it doesn't always work, and in those times it's up to me to escape the Doldrums myself.

How do I do it? Sometimes the motivation comes in the form of family or friends or work or an alarm-clock dog. Sometimes it's reminding myself that life is worth living. Sometimes it's letting go of my need to control every minute detail. Yesterday, it was good news that eventually got me through. 

Positive moments are a great indication that life isn't always terrible.

It would be a disservice to pretend that the Doldrums don't exist - and, yes, let's not forget that it is a scary place. But, there is a way out. Even acknowledging where I am and that I need to get out is a good first step. I don't want to get trapped in this state of inactivity, stagnation, or depression. I worry that I'm letting life pass me by, and it's enough to keep me moving forward. But I also have to remember to give myself time to push through the fog as best I can. It might take a day, maybe a month, maybe longer than that. And there may come a time when I find myself back in there again. I'll be afraid, and that's okay. It means one more thing to overcome, one less thing to worry about. 

As someone famous once said: Bravery is not the absence of fear, it's overcoming the fears you have. The perspectives I've gained from these experiences have taught me that although I may be weak and fallible at times, I also can be brave and strong. I can contain multitudes. 

And while there are some things I just can't plan, at least I can plan on believing in myself.