Lately, I have been getting that odd feeling of becoming disconnected from reality again — of going through the motions, but not really being part of them. At the same time, it’s difficult to feel disconnected when in so much physical pain — I woke up at 4 a.m. today with acute pain in the left shoulder again. Such sharp, insistent pain is sure to remind one that one is still tangible.
For me, this feeling of detachment is not healthy. Generally, it follows or precedes a period of depression, when I feel that life is beyond my control and beyond improvement. That it is flat, routine, and stale and that I am not in a position to change it, whether it be the larger problems of the world or the smaller problems of my own life.
Detachment is a defense mechanism against that depression and against all the aspects of the world that go against my values and beliefs. It’s interesting that my emotional mind chooses it over engagement, and how difficult it is to fight it in favour of engagement.
This weekend I must force myself to take charge and to clean up the physical clutter of my apartment and the emotional clutter that has too long bogged me down and been a convenient barrier to, if not happiness, at least a reasonable sense of normalcy and contentment.
I continue to feel like a person out of time. There is nothing for me in this one, and I don’t belong here.