Submerged in Media...

Well, I was not successful abstaining from media for four days. Heck, I didn't even make it 48 hours. In all honesty I think I spent more time with TV/ music/ iPod/ Angry Birds than I would during any "regular" 24-hour time period. I will not make excuses, because in all reality the circumstances I found myself in should have urged me toward silence, solitude, and reflection- instead of driving me away from it. Nonetheless, I reacted as I did. Because...

Friday, after getting off work Chris left to go camping. Yes, in the wind and rain and snow and subfreezing temperature. (This is not what my blog is about- but it is a good story.) He didn't return until around 4:00pm Sunday afternoon, leaving me home alone for the entire weekend.

I do not mind being home alone. (However, knowing Chris was sleeping under a tarp in a lean-to somewhere off the Appalachian Trail sort of left me feeling a bit uneasy. And when he told me, "I'm turning my cell phone off until I leave camp" I could only reply, "Okay. I won't call the search unit or freak out until Monday morning." What's a girl to do?

Alone. In an apartment on a rainy, cold, dreary weekend?

Write of course! And read. And journal. And meditate. And think about any and everything!

Well, maybe that's what I should have done. And I did do all of those things, but I couldn't lasso my emotions and anxiety well enough to turn off the sound completely. Not while I was alone, without Chris. It had been less than one week since my complete collapse and honestly I didn't feel strong enough to stare down those monsters for hours at a time. And I know I can't but God can in me. And I know that if I'm worrying or fearful then I'm not living in the moment. But... nonetheless, it's a scary place to be and well, I just don't think this was the time.

I think writing can be very therapeutic and I have found it necessary to just "get it out" sometimes. And quite often in my writing things come out and reveal themselves that I didn't even know existed before. It is truly a way to process.

But you have to be ready for whatever may appear. I didn't want to go there yet-- all the way, become susceptible to the weeping and heartache and truth that could hurt. Not that I'm believing lies, well, it's just alot to face. It's alot for one little me. So, I'm chewing on bite sized pieces and one day I'll be able to write it all down.

But this weekend, in-between breaking off bite sized chunks, I listened to my new Brooke Fraser CD, Flags and worshiped through that. I ran, I cooked, I had lunch with a friend and coffee with another friend and good heart-to-heart life talks. I returned my library books and finished skimming my Runner's World magazine. I did a good thorough cleaning of my stove top, it was caked with crusty oatmeal bits, olive oil splats, bits of ground turkey and pieces of tomato. And I talked to my middle sister (Ah, the middle child life! And I hardly ever mention her... Did you know I had a middle sister? Love you Chrissy- XO) for almost two hours on the phone.

And, I'll admit I watched the entire third season of Sex and The City: disk one Friday night, disk two Saturday night. And while I'm being honest, I'll go ahead and admit that I own this. It's funny because, so often when I think about the show Sex and the City, or Sexual City as a friend of mine calls it, I think of how one of my best friend's says of the show, "it is not a show that ladies should watch." She would hide her DVD's when her family would visit. Like we use to do with our wine.