Taking care of myself

[sun_set_bravely]

I know I need to take some reflective, do-nothing, stare-out-the-window time when:

• I fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow


• I wake up in the morning with that "what's the point; I'm just going to die someday anyway" feeling that haunted me for four years in high school


• The idea of lifting a creative pen makes my stomach lurch


• I don't feel like cooking for myself


• I want to give up on the script (oh yes, it wasn't as finished as we thought it was). I want to abandon it in the final stages. I can't do it. I can't do it.

But I can do it. I just need to turn on my super-chill CD, an accidental mix I made several years ago when my mom first got a computer with a CD burner. (The super-chill effect was accidental, not the CD itself. "Ooh, look, I accidentally made a CD!") And I need to clear the window sill, so I can curl up and stare out at the night sky, watching the window fog and clear as I breathe.

How do you take care of yourself when you are feeling your battery drain? What are the things you whisper to yourself to help you keep going?

Comments

[freak1c.livejournal.com]

Battery drain is a good description. And given the advent of lithium ion, etc...I recharge. This can be different things - in the past it's been retail therapy or long walks in parks all over the city. Or a weekend of mostly solitude. Oh - and I listen to music. Happy, uplifting, a little sad, but music that is Me.

You take good care of yourself - and you will this week I'm certain. Clear that window, shut down that computer, switch off that celly and enjoy being you.

[bluesavannah.livejournal.com]

Great post -- this is exactly how I felt this weekend: worn out. No matter how much I tried to make myself do something/anything...it just seemed like a big task.

All I want to do next weekend is lay in bed and watch movies. by myself. that's usually a sign that I need some alone time -- because I usually like to be busy.

Hope you get to feeling better soon!

[blue-by-you.livejournal.com]

I like
1) Long showers
2) Lots of sleep, and
3) Changing how I'm eating or some other unrelated thing that seems to get me back on track.

[schpahky.livejournal.com]

Things that recharge me include lots of hot showers/baths, cooking something wonderful and nourishing (soup, for instance), listening to sentimental music (Joni! Carly! Travis!), wearing whatever I damn want, napping with the cat, and generally spending lots of time alone. Lying there doing nothing. Having a stack of cooking magazines on hand whether or not I get around to reading them. Taking long walks and poking into shops and not even buying anything more than a small candle or a jar of honey. The important thing is the touching and smelling. A long walk on a cold day, when I'm bundled in woolens, makes an inexpensive hot chocolate at the end seem positively decadent.

When I have a phase of not wanting to cook already, i.e. the state you're in now, I make other people feed me. I go out for cups of soup and coffee and anything that will force someone else to hand me food. That's okay, too. It can be expensive but I find it runs itself down in a week or so. It gives me a little rest.

All this has to do with alleviating the obligation to DO SOMETHING PRODUCTIVE.

You've just had this enormous creative promising transformational time. Remember, any expansion is inevitably followed by a contraction. It's just how it is. You're doing fine.

I whisper, You're doing fine.

[oceanic.livejournal.com]

Those tree icons make me miss the East Coast something harsh.

Two thoughts:
1) Play to your strengths. That is, do whatever makes you feel like you're channelling good energy. For me, that's drawing and writing and singing. But for some people it's carving wood, or playing the piano, or scribbling on the sidewalk with chalk. It reminds me that what I'm contributing to the world may in fact be worthwhile.

2) Change something small in a shocking manner. Or go out to a place you've never been to before. The only problem with #1 is that, repeated ad nauseum for comfort instead of with passion, your hobbies become artificial. I've noticed this over the past year. Sometimes I feel like a robot when I pick up my pens and sketchbook. At that point, I put them down and go see some weird local animation festival, or go to a part of town I've never seen before.

It's either recharge through familiarity or recharge through novelty. I recommend a little of each.