Don’t Go There

Don’t go there.

That can be said of many things. Standing water during a flood. Desolate houses in the dark woods. Do not cross yellow warning tape.

I also use that phrase for memories that like to hang around in my head too long.

It’s not that I have not acknowledged these experiences — as a matter of fact, I think I’ve over-felt and over-thought many things in my life.

But I find that, on a day to day basis, I am better off closing those doors more often than not. 

If you have a wandering mind like I do, it’s easy to start with one thought, one emotion, then, instead of acknowledging and letting it go, you let it sit and simmer and steam and overcook in your psyche until you are sick to your stomach.

I think that’s what anxiety attacks are all about.

Thinking and over-thinking doesn’t work at all. We all know that. Past events are just that. In the past. You can’t change one damn thing.

But still, it’s like opening that big oak door just a little. Not much — just a crack. Just so you can get a little peek, hold onto just a little memory.

Some of us handle that little peek just fine. But for others, all you need to do is open the door a crack and, like a raging flood, everything comes pushing through at one time, and before you know it you’re dealing with pain and angst and confusion you already thought you’d handled.

So for me, the smart thing to do is to say Don’t Go There.

I say it in a nice way. Not a nasty, told-you-so way, but in an easy, best-friend-and-protector kind of way. I find a way to distract my thoughts and funnel them into more of a “today” moment or a “tomorrow” moment. 

The forces that be understand that. They have no problem with acceptance and distraction. They know I’ve learned. I’ve grown. I’ve survived. I don’t need a constant reminder.

My age is a constant reminder of the long path I’ve left behind.