I’m hibernating. No, Maybe that’s the wrong word. What I’m doing is far from hibernating, according to
Mirriam-Webster.
I’m awake a regular number of hours each day. I eat three square meals between dawn and dusk — and consume plenty of snacks. I go to the gym the normal number of times a week and I feel as though I’m still crushing it at my day job.
So, perhaps “hibernating” isn’t what’s happening.
Am I hiding? Ugh. I don’t like the sound of that word either. I don’t really hide. Have I avoided things? Yes. If procrastination were a sport, I’d be a medal winner. But I’ve never hidden.
Perhaps what I’m experiencing is the need for a break. A timeout.
Yes. That sounds more accurate.
Admittedly, categorizing where I am mentally is at the bottom of a long list of way more important things on my worry chart. But what I do know for sure is that the world has gone completely insane on a level only imagined before in fictional dystopian novels featuring red-robed women or predictable disaster movies with the adorable pup that disappears early on and then miraculously reappears unscathed before the final credits.
That dog took a deserved timeout, and I’m envious.
The reality is that the news is an ongoing, constant cycle of unbelievable and incredible insanity; my Facebook feed is full of conspiracy theories and high school acquaintances showcasing the obvious failures of my alma mater’s approach to critical thinking; I still don’t understand how to use BlueSky’s starter packs, and no one will tell me the premiere date of the next season of “Star Trek: Strange New Worlds.”
It’s a lot!
However, I do find comfort knowing I’m not alone in my instinct to duck and cover. Many of the people I know are also doing the grown-up version of the tornado drills we were taught would increase our chance of survival in my Midwest elementary school. Find an interior solid wall, face it and crouch down, put your hands over your head and wait for the literal whirlwind to either pass overhead or blow your ass away.
But surviving the actual tornado is just the beginning! Those huge cyclones are over within minutes and it’s their aftermath that takes your breath away. There is no one out there who can stop a tornado with a flip of a switch at some weather control station, but you can prepare and then pitch in during the disastrous cleanup.
I’ve ridden through my fair share of tornadoes and the rebuilding that followed. I’m at the “remember when” age where I can reference names like Rhonda Storms and get disgusted looks and compassionate nods from others my age or older. I can gather the young ones and talk about the fight for simple things like access to our significant others when they were hospitalized!
Those were painful battles, but they were battles on a stepladder of evolution. Were they fun? Absolutely not. But they were expected.
Finding equality has always faced an uphill battle. Desegregation, women’s rights, marriage equality and even children’s rights were all fought for and won through a litany of painful conversations, court battles and a mind-numbing amount of stupidity and handwringing from the opposition.
And here we are again, experiencing what feels like a late entry in a horror film franchise that has long outlived its credibility and creativity. I’m aghast that people saw the newest installation’s trailer and still bought a ticket, purchased their popcorn and settled in for another exhausting ride.
It’s familiar, but this time I feel unprepared. Like so many, I had taken off my battle armor, set it aside to be gazed at like a relic in a museum installation, never to be touched again except for the occasional reminiscent dusting.
I’m ashamed to admit I don’t want to put it back on — and not just because I’m afraid it won’t fit me as well or be as flattering.
I’m older and slightly wiser. But I’m exhausted. I’m less hopeful now than I was 10 or 15 years ago and still baffled by how we went so far in the wrong direction so quickly.
Bears — the forest-dwelling, grunting kind — have a good system. Dig a hole, get comfortable and wait until clearer and warmer weather comes over the horizon. It’s an attractive idea and a damn better solution than that duck-and-cover technique I learned in elementary school.
Admittedly, entering a dark cave, closing the door behind me and disconnecting from the insanity sounds pretty good most of the time. But that dark cave reminds me of a closet. And whatever its form, revisiting the closets from which we came should never be an option.
I won’t allow myself to do that. I’ve come too far.
But I admit I must adjust my thinking. Hide-and-seek, or Ghost in the Graveyard as we called it when I was a kid, was always one of my favorite games. Finding the right hiding place and jumping out at just the right time to either find safety or scare the balls off my friends took some planning.
And I’ve found over the years that the best way to create the best laid plans is to take some time to think, reassess and then react.
So maybe a timeout, however brief, isn’t such a bad idea after all.
Steve Blanchard is the former editor of Watermark Out News. He works in public relations and explores historic and haunted locations through his podcast, “Phantom History.” Learn more at PhantomHistory.com.
