(Written in August 2008)
(This is part of the ongoing series describing my breakdown that started with the entry for March 4, 2011. I haven’t been able to deal with this material before without getting extremely anxious.)
Karen thinks I’m exhausted, that the visit to B.P. cost a lot more than I realized, that I hadn’t fully recovered when I entered the two weeks of Telling My Story, Hazel, Dance Camp, etc. which was way too much. Karen says I’m doing my best and I will recover. What I see is that I’m doing my best and it’s not good enough. It’s a struggle just to feed myself properly. And I’m missing the community piece, I just don’t have enough support. Karen suggested trying to find a Chi Gung class — I was saying how I hadn’t been able to keep up yoga since Sarah stopped teaching. Actually, I’m hoping Nia classes will fill that empty space.
Wounded too badly to live. I’m sitting here looking at the broken pieces of my life and acknowledging that I don’t have what it takes to pull it together and to even live a little of that wild, wide, and creative life that I think I had the capacity for. Though who knows, maybe I’m wrong. But I feel a tremendous pressure of unlived life inside me — that led me to the Nia training and the drama project — but I don’t have the physical strength and psychological robustness to keep going, to make up new Nia choreographies, etc. I don’t have the base of support — a community of like-minded friends, some way to have meals be easier. Without that greater level of support, I don’t see how to live that bigger life — but without some aspect of that bigger life, why go on? Why go on fighting the daily battles: to get food, to walk the dog, to deal with the bureaucracy, to keep up the house, etc? Only if it could support a life worth living.