System Check After Reboot

Many of us in NYC are going through some sort of personal pandemic recovery, trying to rebalance, reassess, restart in this new version of normal.  The early days of COVID - when the city that never sleeps crashed into a coma even as endless sirens screamed through the streets - still echo in our heads like a long ago nightmare yet feel like yesterday.  Despite occasional office visits to near empty skyscrapers or surreal dinners with friends amid the landscape of "For Lease" retail space, we haven't quite figured out where the fuck we are now.  There are high-end stores missing, mom and pop shops missing, restaurants missing, delis missing, dive bars missing, diners missing, energy missing, and people.  Fuck.  The people...the tourists, the faces we used see at lunch, our neighbors, our co-workers, our friends and family...who aren't fucking there anymore.  Their faces, voices, and presence are an ache that doesn't fade. 

We've gone through a hard reboot after a major system error.  I'm still waiting on all my system checks to process, but I'm already reporting errors.  

Nothing feels...right.

It's not just the external puzzle pieces that no longer fit together like they used to, it's my internal rhythms as well.  My pieces are totally out of sync. 

My mind, body, emotions, and soul are traveling at different speeds, going in different directions, and listening to completely different tracks on the way. 

Between a ramped up workload and expanded duties in professional life as well as the wealth of knowledge I've absorbed from Lifestyle classes, discussions, books, and community service for the last year, my mind has been movin daily at 120 mph, flyin down straightaways and huggin corners like it’s on rails making the tragic scenery of the pandemic a blur.  (Coping tool!)  As I've raced from project to project and task to service to meeting, the deep familiar bass of classic hip-hop rattles my bones.  Here...I've thrived, driving tangible growth both professional and personally.    

Meanwhile, my soul and spirit have snagged a solid understated Subaru for a ride.  Through mediation and mindfulness I've climbed gently but purposefully upwards on a steep mountain trail of peaceful, joyful transcendence toward a mysterious summit.  This spiritual journey brought together a hundred different snippets of previously learned lessons to take me to somewhere new and barely explored.  Singing bowls, gongs, and primal drums weave music that lifts me even higher as I connect with Past and Future, Earth and Air, Fire and Water, and of course (my favorite) stunning Space.  Energy flows freely through my soul and spirit and body as I take deliberate steps to surrender myself to the connectedness and power of a Universe I both know and don't know.

Yeah...Two extremely different positive vibes on complete opposite ends of the spectrum, which are impossible to hold at once.  Luckily the energy of each feed and amplify the other.  In fact, they balance one another.  Revving so high for too long can take a toll on an engine.  Too much bass can damage hearing.  Too much zen can leave me ungrounded.  Still the back and forth between the two polarities is somewhat of a mind fuck and can leave me dizzy. 

Then there's my MIA real-world emotions.  Despite the wealth of joy, passion, curiosity, inspiration I've felt in meditations, very little in the real-world reaches me right now.  I'm detached.  Cool.  Numb.  Unimpressed.  Uninspired.  With the world.  With opportunities.  With humanity.  Meh.  I'm not just in Neutral.  I'm in mother fuckin' Park, engine off nursing a low battery and flat silence.  In 2019, my emotions thrived in the every changing new experiences and options before me.  Now, only intermittent hours (even in zoom) spent with those closest to me spark laughter, gratitude, and my heart to beat.  

Much of this may be a product of NYC's (and my own) slow recovery but also how I remained high functioning during the pandemic.  Once COVID hit, I did my best to clamp down emotions and focus on mental purpose.  As I said in a previous post, "I would have gone mad if I'd let myself dwell in all that fucking turmoil, fear, and pain," that had swamped the world.  I refused to allow room for the negative, but over time that tight control may have made it more difficult for good to seep in.  Then again...as the months dragged on, less and less of what carried us through in the beginning makes an impact.  

This is ALL on me and my current (still very cautious) view, so I'm actively searching the horizon for a more inspiring view with measured risk that will push start my emotions back in motion full time.  I'll also need to let go of some control in the process, and given how long I've held the sole responsibility for protecting the property, loosening my grip may be the most difficult piece.

If emotions in Park weren't enough, no matter what I’m doing…work, travel, meals, family, friends, community, masturbation...my body can’t.  Quite.  Feel.  Every movement seems far away, detached, out-of-body rather than in body.  I'm not settledness in my bones.  Instead I watch myself from above, jerkily move through the day in fits and starts.  The ride is hell, like I found my old '88 Mustang 5.0 outside, jumped in, but either I forgot how to shift or the manual transmission is shot.  I can't even get above 25 mph, and the damn thing keeps stalling out.  On top of the complete lack of smoothness, the custom stereo I once boomed now only spits out the occasional crackle of static or sleepy am radio through a tired pair of 6x9's.  AUGH!  This analogy is killing me...is it my age?!?  I am approaching 50.  Am I really now just a tired classic car in need of a long list of repairs?  ~whimper~

No.

Fuck that.

I don't need a damn overhaul.  

I just need fucked repeatedly over the course of weeks mixed with progressively more intense physical, mental, and emotional S&M scenes to rehabilitate and tune up the COVID-worn systems in my body.  Unfortunately, being demisexual makes that overdue visit to a garage essentially impossible any time soon, so I'll have to take the slow route and make individual home repairs by adding more yoga, more dancing, and maybe add some solid porn to the routine.  It...might...help?  Blah...

There is no single quick solution to my various pieces going in completely different directions.  It took me over a year to get to this disjointed state.  It's likely going to take at least the same to test incremental changes to discover which ones translate to meaningful results and put me back in sync.  Augh.  This post took me more that two fuckin weeks just to write, as I sorted through the issues.  At least now, I've got the diagnostic report on my system check.

Anyone a mechanic?  Or at least have a decent set of tools I can borrow?

~DominaKat