House Arrest: The Loneliness of a Broken Mind

I made it through another day.

Yesterday was an incredibly tough day in what has been an incredibly tough week, and please don’t ask me why, because I don’t really know. At least not for certain.

This was not the plan for this week, but as usual with my writing and painting, the idea just popped into my head. I'm not sure that's entirely accurate, as I am pretty sure this title and article are a direct reaction to the day and week I've been having, but the title and topic definitely just sort of arrived.

I actually think this is the logical follow-up from last week, and so in that regard it makes sense.

I will also say that in writing these pieces and sharing them with the world, it is always my hope that someone might find some connection in what I've written, and perhaps some comfort, but this week I am not sure how many people feel what I am about to write about, or if I am just the lone knucklehead out there.

It is true that this journey I have been on, especially lately, often feels like house arrest, and to take the analogy just a bit further, sometimes even more like solitary confinement. I know why it has been harder lately. With the smoke and heat we have had, it is much harder to be out and about. I have had to cut down on both the number of walks I go on each day and the distance I walk. There also isn't any fresh air when I do walk, so it hasn't been refreshing either. Nonetheless, this is not a new feeling or phenomenon, perhaps just a little more intense of late.

It also makes sense to me why "work from home" exacerbated the onset of my anxiety. I know working from home impacted a large number of people and contributed to the mental health crisis we are in, but still, it has been much worse for me lately.

One of the things the walks have been doing for me, without my expecting it, is getting me outside: fresh air, normally, sunshine, exercise, and so on. More importantly, I think, they get me out of the house. My house in the summer is too hot and dark, as I am trying to abate the heat as best I can, and extremely stuffy. It is also where I have to be alone with me and my thoughts. Somehow, for some reason, the intensity of the thoughts seems greater in the house than outside, and they tend to build momentum as each day goes on.

Outside, there are other people periodically, and while some do the tough-guy, stare-straight-ahead-and-don't-make-eye-contact bullshit—I will save the rest of that rant for another time—there are people - and dogs - I have seen consistently since my surgery, when I started trying to walk more frequently and for greater distances. It is nice to be greeted in a positive way. Yesterday morning, there was someone feverishly waving at me from across the street as I approached the light, and she had a dog that seemed very excited. When I crossed the street, I saw that it was someone I usually see in the park with her dog, Archer. Archer was just a tiny, excited little puppy a few months ago when I first started these walks, and although the puppy energy was still there, he has grown tremendously in that time. Those kinds of interactions are just nice to have.

Unfortunately, the walks can only last so long. It is then back to the house and staring at the walls.

On days like this, my broken mind seems to jump from one thing to the next, desperately trying to find something that will provide a distraction, or better yet, a little peace. Watch TV for a while. Pick up the phone and play some stupid game. Put the game down and scroll through social media. Put the phone down and try watching something else. Get up. Walk around. Sit back down. Pick up the phone again. Around and around and around. None of it is particularly satisfying, and none of it really works. It isn't entertainment at that point. It is simply an attempt to find something, anything, that will make my brain quiet for a little while.

In some ways, this feels like the logical continuation of what I wrote about last week in Speak Your Truth: Then Duck. I wrote then about sitting in a coffee shop surrounded by people I had known for years and somehow feeling completely alone and invisible. It is the same loneliness, and yet starkly different. There is something uniquely painful about feeling alone in a crowd, but there is also something incredibly difficult about actually being alone, day after day, with a mind that doesn't always make particularly good company. In the coffee shop, I was surrounded by people and felt alone. Here, there isn't anyone else in the room. Just me and the thoughts I can't get away from.

Maybe that is another connection to what I wrote last week. I talked about how important it is to stay when someone you care about speaks their truth, even when that truth is difficult to hear. What I didn't talk as much about was what staying can mean on days like yesterday. Sometimes a phone call, a text, an invitation for coffee, or simply someone checking in doesn't fix anything. It doesn't quiet the anxiety or repair the broken mind. But it can interrupt the loneliness. It can remind someone sitting alone in their house, trying desperately to quiet their mind, that they aren't entirely alone.

What makes this "solitary confinement" feeling worse is when it gets coupled with a bad anxiety day, like yesterday. It is amazing because I realized yesterday that the anxiety is very much like a long wick just waiting for a match, and what makes it fun is that those dealing with severe anxiety don't know what is actually going to light the fuse, or worse yet, what might pour lighter fluid on it. We just know that when it happens, it is like the Fourth of July. All of a sudden, fireworks are going off inside, and there is nothing, no apparent way, to douse them.

And when the fuse gets lit in a significant way, it becomes physical. It becomes difficult to breathe, difficult to think, difficult to focus on anything other than what is happening inside my own head. Sometimes it becomes difficult to keep from simply sobbing. Everything else seems to disappear, and for however long it lasts, the only thing I can really do is try to get through it and wait for the fireworks to finally stop.

The funny thing is, I was actually having a pretty good day yesterday. I had a nice walk before it got too hot, got the hello from Archer, came home, got some writing done on something I'm working on, spoke to my sister as she was traveling through the UK, and then one seemingly innocuous ping on my phone lit the fuse.

Making it through a day like this sometimes feels like surviving one of the old E-ticket rides at Disney World. Lots of ups and downs, twists and turns, and moments when you think things are settling down, only to suddenly be thrown in another direction—all the while holding on for dear life and feeling like you're going to throw up. The only difference is that nobody asked me if I wanted to get on this ride, and I can't seem to find the exit.

There are days like this when I genuinely don't know how I am going to survive them. Not because I am making plans to go anywhere, but because when your own mind becomes this difficult a place to live, you begin to wonder what kind of life it is if you do. And then somehow the hours pass. The fireworks eventually quiet. The day ends.

I made it through another day.