I’m stuck, and I’m not enjoying it. I feel trapped inside myself of late. I feel like I’m doing nothing, accomplishing nothing. This isn’t true objectively, but it’s how I feel nevertheless. Even writing things out and checking them off doesn’t help. When I start feeling paralyzed by inertia, it usually means depression has strengthened her grip.

I’m also rage-filled and quick to anger of late, another sign. There’s a dark ugliness at the back of my brain itching to get out.

It could be menopause: rage is a feature. It has to do with shifts in the testosterone and estrogen ratios. I suspect depression, however: I’m mostly asymptomatic when it comes to menopause. I remain grateful for that.

Is the reason for the slump even relevant? The results are more relevant to all concerned. Cause aside, it takes very little to set me off right now. Disturb it at your peril. I’m as stable as a well-shaken can of soda pop. Identifying menopause or depression as the guilty party seems pointless when I’ve just sprayed all over the unsuspecting and (mostly) undeserving.

The anger and feelings of being stuck could also be a reaction to the chaos my life has experienced of late. I don’t enjoy chaos. A calm and ordered existence helps me roll along smoothly as I navigate recovery, mental illness, and grief. Though I suspect my devotion to the “orderly existence” is becoming problematic. How well are you doing if you can’t weather a few of life’s challenges and knocks? How strong are you if you retreat in the face of inevitable change?

Wesley told Buttercup that “life is pain,” but I think “changeable” is another good descriptor. Too bad I’m not a fan.

Change makes me nervous. I only like the idea of change on paper. In the real world, I worry about it destabilizing my cool. I don’t like my life when I’m off the rails. It occurs to me, however, as I struggle with the aforementioned rage and feelings of inertia, that one shouldn’t place too much weight on the external structures of our lives. They change no matter how we try to keep things locked in amber. Other people blunder around us, knocking things out of order, and just as we get things back to running smoothly, change happens again.

I railed to my counsellor that I feel like I’m fighting a losing battle against the chaos that my life has become. I function best when my routines are running smoothly and without variance. I function best when everything is “just so.” It’s one of the challenges I face when I go on vacation – everything is different, and I don’t have that thing I just realized I need. There’s a slight possibility that I’m becoming rigid.

I’m not a fan of changes I don’t initiate, and I’m not a fan of the chaos and confusion that can result. I like things to stay as they are as much as possible. Predictability is soothing to me, ditto keeping things organized. An organized and quiet environment around me helps me feel calm and quiet on the inside.

A stagnant life is a happy life, or so they say.

“What if you embraced the chaos?” my counsellor asked. Why don’t I sprout wings and fly? Everything about me hates that idea, for all that I wonder and muse about being bohemian and free. To abandon order feels wrong from my bones on out (these are the only choices – embrace chaos, or subscribe to rigid order. I get a touch binary when I feel under pressure). But I just remembered something about recovery and feeling discomfort – when you feel uncomfortable and want to retreat, that’s when it’s time to lean in.

This is obviously not true when standing over an alligator pit. You have to have some common sense.

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