I thought my vertigo was in retreat. I took a shower. I dried off and felt almost normal and thought, “Well, I am in training, maybe I should venture out and at least do an easy gym day.”
Apparently the mere thought of such a thing was more than my body/mind connection was willing to entertain. The lightheadedness and need to hold onto walls in order to ambulate roared back with an unpleasant and nauseating insistence not unlike Dick Cheney’s about the existence of WMD’s.
So, I finished reading Emma Straub’s novel, The Vacationers (about which I will be writing when I feel better) and am bouncing (albeit whilst prone) between Empty Mansions by Bill Dedman and Paul Clark Newell, Jr. & The Quick by Lauren Owen & My Struggle, Book 1, by Karl Ove Knausgaard.
The odd return of symptoms and the near-elation I experienced at almost falling to the ground when emerging from the shower, leads me to believe that some part of me WANTS to have vertigo and be unable to leave the house. I have looked so forward to this gig the past few years; this solitude and quiet on the lake, this chance to read uninterrupted for days on end, this time to get back to me.
I forget — as life goes on day-to-day — just how affected I am by the moods and energies and psyches of others. As every psychiatric counselor I’ve ever had (back off, it’s only been three and never for more than a year — although, perhaps — oh shut up) has told me that I need to develop walls, that I am too emotionally porous, too empathetic, that, while being an empath is my greatest quality, it is also my could-be-fatal-flaw.
Rock and roll. Or, rather, Broadway Ballads and cabaret tunes. Yeah. It is. And maybe, just maybe, while it is truly essential for me to keep up my physical training for the Ride To Conquer Cancer coming in September, it is equally important for me to nourish my psyche and soul. For me, that psyche/soul nourishment comes from having time and distance enough away from anyone but me that I can — again — hear and feel just me.
So, maybe, I should decide to stay in for a few days and I wouldn’t have to be dizzy and wall-banging and periodically crawling to reach the next location. Move over Jilly and Rocky, we’re sharing the couch for the next few days.