I've spent the last four days medicating myself with the TV episode Bones. Socially awkward yet astonishingly brilliant Dr. Brennan is a world-reknown forensic anthropologist who solves gruesome murders and "unsolvable" crimes. In the past four days I've watched almost two years worth of episodes. I'm addicted. Yet, as I lay here now in my bed thinking (I can never sleep when I think at night), I start to see her idiosyncrasies. Her god is logic and she rules her life according to professionalism and fact, making her an incredible scientist, but a cold and rather unapproachable person. I realize that Dr. Brennan is frightened; she's terrified of recognizing her difficult personal past and refuses to allow others into her secret realm of emotions and feelings. She's created an invisible, protective wall around herself and she guards the key with her life.
Though it's not a new realization, I'm realizing more and more that I've done the same. While I can certainly smile and talk of happy things to others, there is a deep sadness and anger than simmers not so far beneath my surface. And yet, I continue to refuse to allow myself to truly recognize that. I won't even allow myself into that protected realm of emotions and feelings. School is out for the summer and I can't handle nothingness. I have promptly buried myself in a tall stack of challenging books; a study of international ideologies, a glimpse into the psychology of the pre-WWII Germany, an analysis of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, sociology textbooks from classes I never got to take. They're all fascinating, yes....but really, honestly, if I let myself be completely sincere, they're a distraction. From myself.
And so, I'm continuing to voraciously watch Bones and read through my stack. The time of physical stillness is therapeutic and I can feel my body start to heal - I'm actually back on a regular sleep and eating schedule (this semester threw my routines out the window), but my mind is still on a treadmill. A treadmill with no stop button.