I’m listening to Dimmu Borgir. Forces of the northern night, the live album where they performed with a full choir and orchestra. My copy is on olive green vinyl. I have the house to myself today which means I get to use speakers instead of headphones. When I started a journal to read to my psychologist I would often begin the passages with what I was listening to as a way of getting the words flowing. I listen to a lot of music. It’s a healthy outlet, but my psychologist sees me staying in the house and isolating. I’m not sure I can accept that notion. Music recharges the proverbial batteries. A good listening session can relax me and help ground me. It’s like a pep-talk to keep going out into the world and trying. Everyone wants to be alone sometimes. I just crave that more often than most. I’m not making excuses to isolate. I have been like this for years. Isolating for me is sitting in silence in the dark drinking. Isolating is saying nothing about what I’m going through and pretending nothing is wrong. Isolating was when I would sit in the truck alone outside the hospitals between calls because I felt like I was going to burst into tears. It’s not listening to music. As long as I can manage to listen to something I know I’m coping. Collecting physical copies of music I like has been a hobby for years. The social component disappeared when the record shops closed. But it’s still my hobby and my passion. Having PTSD doesn’t change that and I’m not going to let it change that. I’m proud of the collection I have managed to build over the last 25 years, and I’m always going to want to listen to it as often as I can.

I’m now listening to Keep Of Kalessin. My wife is out visiting a friend with our youngest son. I worry for their safety. Music is the difference between dealing with the fear and becoming overwhelmed by it. I easily get stuck on my loved ones getting hurt when they are out. I get so anxious that I convince myself they aren’t safe, that the horrible things I picture are inevitable. I’m not avoiding with music, I’m keeping perspective. I’m showing the anxiety that it’s not in control. Music is the closest I come to being spiritual. It stirs something in me, strengthening the resolve that I can deal with anything. I do listen alone. Those around me are generally not interested in what I’m listening to. That’s okay. That doesn’t mean that I’m going to give up on a source of pleasure and relaxation. I’m always going to listen to music when possible even if it means that I isolate when I do. Every moment of my life can’t be spent out of the house challenging my anxiety and depression by doing things for the sake of doing things when listening to music is my thing.

Or am I just making excuses to hide in the comfort of my home? Is recovery entirely outside the house surrounded by other people, fanning the flames of anxiety? When I do go out I feel like I have to monitor the other people to make sure they’re just doing whatever they’re doing, minding their own business and not having an emergency. This is the hypervigilence acting up. Coupled with this I have this fear that I’ll be out somewhere, something will happen where someone needs help and I’ll freeze, blanking out on what to do instead of being able to contribute, thus proving that I shouldn’t return to work. Every time I get home I’m relieved that nothing happened while I was out. Apparently the more I challenge this all the less of a challenge it will be. I just have to deal with it continuing to be a challenge for a while and have faith that it will get easier to cope with. Hmm. I’ll think about that while I’m putting on some Opeth. Or should I say avoiding with some Opeth? I don’t know anymore. What was once me being me now seems to be me avoiding me.

When I can see and argue both sides it makes knowing which one I’m to be on difficult. Recovery may not be in front of the stereo but some of my ability to cope with recovery is. Sometimes I need a day or two to sort out where my head is at. If I’m constantly facing challenges day after day without that relief to pause and reflect I just get overwhelmed and frustrated, which isn’t progress. I know I do need to challenge myself too. I have to stop looking at it as all or nothing; my loner hobby can coexist with my recovery and play an imortant role in it. As long as I behave and go play outside too.