Driving blind

[vaneramos]

Typically, after the visit with family I have launched a mutinous armada of self-doubt. I see my brothers' successes and securities, the hopeful endeavours of their offspring. By comparison my life looks frozen in a cycle of neurosis and unemployment.

Since childhood I have gradually constructed an eiderdown, inner safe place no one can invade. My recent assertions about embracing solitude sound a cold echo through these hollow rooms. I notice walls of avoidance. Recent achievements appear thin and fragile. Am I genuinely happier, or just hardened?

I had looked forward to today's round trip to Lindsay more than usual, a beautiful afternoon for a liesurely drive. But once I dropped the girls off, urgency arose to retreat inside my serene apartment and turn the deadbolt.

I dread both the stress of society and the slow poison of isolation. The question is not whether introversion is normal, but whether it can work. My life has never functioned well, so the map forward is hard to see. My sense of balance has collapsed.

I must start reapplying exercises learned in cognitive therapy.

Resisting the impulse to hurry home, I stopped to take more photos in Holland Marsh and enjoyed the exercise.





Willow catkins are posted in macro_pics.
Lichen is posted in texture.