My comfort zone is proving somewhat elusive at the moment. That’s it over there, no over there, oh it’s moved, it’s over there now. Wherever it is it doesn’t seem to be right here and that’s for sure.
Part of my problem is that I’m not really sure what it looks like, these days, this comfort zone of mine. For example, I have this need, in these retirement lockdown times, for variety. Our days are pleasant enough, mostly, but they all have a sameness about them. I suppose these daily activities might be described as my comfort zone – art, music, history lessons, maybe a bit of sport, documentaries, TV ‘dramas’, dog-walking, that kind of thing.
But, and here’s the catch, because they lack variety, an element of surprise even, my comfort zone is almost too comfortable and hence uncomfortable. Makes no sense does it? Perhaps if I suggest the comfort zone is verging on the boring it makes more sense.
As I believe Chekhov once said, ‘Any fool can weather a crisis, it’s the day to day living that wears you out.’
And what we have now is a crisis that has gone on so long that it’s become a form of day to day living and yes, this form of day to day living is wearing me out a bit. I know a lack of daily variety isn’t a lot to complain about when people are still dying or getting very ill and other folks are grieving for these people, but one plays the cards one is dealt, does not one. So that’s part of my problem.
And then there’s an additional twist to my difficulties as described in this retirement blog. I think I might be losing a bit of confidence in my ability to deal with what I perceive has become the real world. The one that’s ‘out there’ now. It may be that what I perceive as the ‘real world’ is not real at all, it’s hard to say at a distance.
Of course it’s easy to understand how this might have happened. Up until recently there has been a real element of danger about ‘out there’. I mean I could catch a disease and die. That qualifies as real danger, does it not? In the words of the film, No Country for Old men, if it’s not real it will do until the real one comes along.
When we’re walking the dogs we practically throw ourselves into the hedge bottom to avoid people coming the other way. Double down on that in an enclosed environment, rare though these may be. I’ve always been a tad anti-social but now my socialness has gone into meltdown and I do wonder if it will ever get back to its miserable normal. Will I venture into a crowded pub or restaurant ever again? Will I ever make any kind of musical, public performance?
As I say I’ve lost a bit of confidence in matters of the real world as we now define it. So when we do get back to something like normality I’ll have to employ all those little tricks that I might have recommended to other people in my days as a psychologist when they were confronted with a crisis that has to be dealt with.
As I recall they went something like this – Take it slowly and set small challenges. In the jargon, look for easy wins. Look at what’s already working and build on it. Use a lot of positive self-talk and reframing about the nature of the challenge. Reward effort and not just achievement. Don’t try too hard. Seek support from others.
There was a time (long ago) when generating a list like the above would have come easy. The strategies would have flown from my keyboard fingers. Today I have vague memories of such strategies but an overwhelming feeling there are plenty I should remember but can’t. Yet another example of betwixt and between which typifies my retirement life, more so now with jolly old lockdown.
Anyway I’ve written some of my current dilemmas in this retirement blog but as my grandma used to say when I was complaining about something or other- worse things happen at sea, lad. She was a wise woman my grandma. Not sure what she’d have made of these pandemic times, though.