Introspection Overload & Possible Literary Antidotes

In less than twenty-four hours, I attended three recovery meetings. The day before, I met with my sponsor. Last week, I dealt with some pretty heavy revelations in therapy that knocked me down.

This afternoon, I had a case of introspection overload. I am starting to understand the intensity the Boy went through when he went to Wilderness therapy and then therapeutic boarding school. Looking inside is hard.

Today wasn't all bad. I heard some good stuff:

• Don't quit five minutes before the miracle.
• My higher power steers the boat. I row.
• Meaning: My inner knowing (as Glennon Doyle calls it) can tell me what to do, but I need to act on it. How much do I stall or wait, even on little shit? For example, I am kind of bored with my meditation podcast. Have I found another one? No. How hard is it to find mediation podcasts in the middle of a pandemic? Yeah. I have no excuse.

The hard part about the introspection overload is that I don't have my usual releases because of the quarantine. In a non-pandemic world (I would say normal, but who knows what that is anymore), I would go for a walk with a friend, go for coffee, go to dinner, go dancing, which would then balance out a day of heavy insights.

But I don't have that.

I do, however, have a dog I can walk, which is good. I live close to Pike Place Market, which is fun, even if my main purpose to shop there is to get groceries. I did stop by Metzger's Maps and bought a book about Alaska and a book about National Parks. (A woman can dream, right?)

I also found a book on inner peace, which resonated with me.

What else could I read? I found some books on my shelf that might cheer me up, some of my favorites:

These books are hilarious and make me laugh. I snorted the first time I read Bossypants by Tina Fey.

These books are in the category of "It could be worse..." I could be a nurse during World War II. I could be held hostage in a South American country in a palace. I could be living in a modern version of King Lear.

Or, it could be WAY worse. In Station Eleven, there is a pandemic that wipes out 99.99% of the human race and a few thousand people are left on the planet. Instead of being isolated in my condo, I could be stuck alone on Mars.