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It feels lately like the ground keeps slipping out from under me. I'll be going along, minding my own business, and find myself suddenly or subtly sliding into sadness, or confusion, even a mild form of panic. Along with this comes insomnia, an inability to focus on work, and the same recursive thinking leading me to the same dead-end in the corn maze of my mind: whatever I'm doing is utterly wrong. If I'm making art, I should be writing, if I'm writing, I should be cleaning, if I'm cleaning, I should be having fun, if I'm having fun, I should be working. There is no right. My entire life is wrong and I can't bear it another minute.
In my better moments, I reach for the phone, a shoulder to cry on. Otherwise, I reach for something to soothe and distract - food, a movie, or a chore, preferably something I can do while simultaneously eating and watching a movie. And then it passes and I feel absolutely fine and don't see what exactly was so upsetting in the first place.
I'd like to believe this is all good. That this is a temporary crisis that will lead me to higher ground, a greater sense of ease and confidence in the world. I'd like to believe I've simply peeled away a layer of armor and now I'm confronting the stuff I didn't let myself feel in the past, working my way through it.
But sometimes I wonder if it's just the Tamoxifen messing with my hormones, and the aftermath of a year of cancer treatment and feeling like my life was on the line, a feeling that hasn't exactly gone away.
Either way, I'll keep putting one foot in front of the other. I'll keep cooking good meals, making art, writing, working, doing chores, having fun, and wrestling the demons in the corn maze. And I'll keep picking up the phone, reminding myself that I'm not alone.
What else am I going to do?