I have noticed a strange phenomenon. @notovine has noticed it as well.
When we arrive at the cottage, aka Squirellville, aka Eden, we are unable to relax upon first arriving. Perhaps it is our brains getting used to the absence of wireless radio frequencies. Or possibly it is our ears getting used to the absence of “city sounds”.
Whatever the reason, I feel an overwhelming sense of dread when packing to go to the cottage, a slightly less anxious feeling when arriving at the cottage, followed within the half-hour by an overwhelming sense of calm. That’s the detox.
The retox is far worse. When it is time to pack up and leave the cottage, I procrastinate. I dig my fingernails into the hard limestone of the Niagara Escarpment and get dragged away kicking and screaming. I refuse to pack the car. I drink “one more” beer. And then I drink “one more” after that. Sometimes I cancel my plans for Monday and stay one more night, but I’m only postponing the retox.
I know retox is not a word. We’ve added “selfie” and other made-up words to the dictionary, so why not retox?
For you, the reader, hearing about my anxiety again is probably about as interesting as looking at pictures of my dog, but as they say, “My blog, my dog.”
The reason I write this post is to procrastinate. I am departing on a five-day canoe trip/hike tomorrow. I still need to buy food and pack, but I’m crippled with anxiety. I am excited to get the hell out of the city, but the coming detox is giving me the same jitters that it always does. I won’t relax until fifteen minutes after I arrive. And then five days later I will experience the same crescendo of worrisome feelings as I prepare to depart.
In my post about antidepressants, I shared some of the ways I relax. For some reason, I can’t figure it out when it comes to packing up and leaving the city for a few days. And I certainly can’t figure out how to wrap my head around returning to the city.
Detox and Retox. They’re there like Tweedledee and Tweedledum, making me feel a little weird. Okay, a lot weird.
Maybe, like Alice in Wonderland, I need some drugs to get out of this one. But don’t tell my insurance company. They think I’m totally normal.
Anyways, see you in five days. If a bear doesn’t eat me.