I made a decision early this week to close out my Facebook site—actually, the decision was made during my therapy, which just so happened to be on 1/11/11. I don’t mind social networking, but it is really, really distracting and addictive. There were several reasons for this decision: first, I find myself finally in a position where I can think about going back to work (the drug combination the doctors have me on is working wonders) and secondly, I really need to distance myself from other people for awhile. When, and if, I return, I will—more than likely—“friend” most of the same people over again, because I’ve enjoyed getting to know them or renewing old friendships. But, for right now, I need to be solitary. And very, very quiet. And reflective. Most of the people on my friend list, I will keep in contact with through e-mail. I’ll miss a lot of news, but for me, going “cold turkey” is the best way to deactivate a habit.
I don’t know why this feeling comes over me, this need to be alone, but I know I need to follow where it leads. That it happens in cycles probably seems odd to some, but I’m also sure some will understand. In any case, I am certainly not surrounded by people. My son spends the vast majority of his time reading, writing, and studying. Plus, he is the quiet sort. My husband is at the lab from 8:30 A.M. through oftentimes 7:30 P.M. and sometimes beyond. When he is not there, he is studying for his final classes and comprehensive examinations due to be taken at the end of summer—as well as doing the normal repair, maintenance, etc. work that is a part of having vehicles, homes, and so forth. I do not socialize up here in the tundra (I’ve never been, nor will I ever be, the “let’s do lunch” sort) nor do I spend much time on the phone. But, still, there it is—people. Who are, by the very nature of being people, distracting., especially to an empath like myself. And whose problems and bits and pieces of everyday life find their way into my consciousness, prompting me to respond, worry, or stew. I’ll still talk to my closest friends, and my family, as well as follow the blogs of those who have them, but that is not the distraction having a certain number of friends online at my fingertips entails.
I am going to spend this time in further reflection, in meditation, in research, in writing. My guess is that it has a lot to do with the close of year seven for me, which will come in the spring. A seven year, as I have mentioned, is a year of introspection. For some, the New Year brings the beginning of a personal year. For me, it seems to always be my birth month. Whichever way one looks at it, the seventh year in the nine year cycle is a year to reflect on the past and plan for the future. This year, which in its countdown months, is presenting itself as a time in which I am clear-headed for the first time in a long time (also due to the medications) and can actively write and research to my heart’s (and mind’s) content. For those who dismiss numerology as hogwash, so be it. But, my life does have a series of patterns, based upon the nine year time cycle. And, I’m not going to argue with my intuition to go with that flow.
In a year or so, hopefully less time than we think, our lives will again be turned upside down, and we will be making a decision as to whether we stay or leave the area. This excursion up here in the frozen tundra of upstate New York has been a rough one, for both my husband and for myself. And, out of all of the six years up here, this year has by far been the most troubling—almost as bad as my two year. For the first ten months, debilitating and persistent pain, as well as other troubling symptoms, kept me pretty much housebound, taking medical tests, or going to many, many specialists. My thoughts were mostly in dealing with pain, from which I know I learned some very valuable lessons, among them the acceptance of myself as I am. As far as my husband goes, skilled and dedicated scientists are usually in demand, although it took him almost a year—his three year–to be in the position he currently holds when the one for which we came up here was like fitting a round peg in a square hole. But, for me, the recession that started in the 1970’s and has pretty much continued in this area, effectively killed most new opportunities in the field of education. I do not know the “right people”, nor have I been physically able to make the contacts I needed, or scour around for the sources I could use. The university cut-backs have meant the positions are already filled when they are advertised by those already within the system, and the classes I was assured would be picked up were lost in the bureaucracy of a pretty much bankrupt state. The same goes for the public and private schools. And, getting NYS certification really was just not worth my time, as the cost was prohibitive without at least a remote prospect of a teaching position. All this was as the universe dictated. Each and every time I tried, my illness would return full force. Or, the position would not be funded. Or, it would not materialize in a number of ways. Or, I just didn’t get it. Now, as we face a major decision, I want to be prepared, emotionally, physically, and academically, for what lies ahead, whether it be in volunteerism or teaching. In short, I am compelled right now to FOCUS. I’ll let my instinct lead to the specificity of that focus. But focus I must. Because I feel a change coming, and the time will be right.
My blog posts will, more than likely, represent that focus. I have a lot of unanswered questions, and several avenues from which to choose. Like Frost, I will probably choose the road less traveled—just as I have always done. That rarely traveled road has put me in some tough positions, and has certainly seen its share of obstacles, but following my heart has always meant I would not be bored. And I will listen closely to what the universe is saying. I will be quiet so I can hear it.
So, Friday my Facebook site will be discontinued, at least for a time. And the work begins as I listen to the universe and lay the groundwork for my personal future.