Ever find yourself diving headfirst into literally anything to avoid sitting alone with your thoughts?
Welcome to my masterclass: "Distraction 101: Avoiding Hard Truths Like a Pro." I'm your host! You may remember me as the 3 time winner of the award for Creative Avoidance. (Ended up on a roll after getting my PhD in Distraction) Let's take a stroll down memory lane, back to a time when I turned avoidance into an art form, not because I'm still practicing it, but because reflection is the first step to understanding, right?
After realizing that the end of my great grandmother's life marked THE END in capital letters, I embarked on a journey to become the Houdini of emotional evasion. My stage? The burgeoning world of cannabis dispensaries in Michigan, where recreational usage had just been legalized. Talk about timing—like jumping on a train that's not only moving but also on fire and you've never seen a train before.
I landed a gig as a marketing coordinator with a string of dispensaries. Now, while marketing and restrictions were not new to me, selling weed to Michiganders was a whole new strain of challenge. The industry was as green as its product, teeming with possibilities and pitfalls. My job became my fortress, a meticulously constructed maze designed to keep introspection at bay. I morphed into the marketing maestro of marijuana, immersing myself in the nuances of the industry with the dedication of a monk (though perhaps with a different kind of 'spiritual' enlightenment).
In my off-hours, I sought refuge in the comforting arms of Netflix binges and the endless pages of books, each story a brick in the wall I built around my thoughts. The idea was simple: if my mind was constantly occupied, it wouldn't have the chance to meander down paths I wasn't ready to tread.
Writing, once my refuge, turned into a minefield. The "Patriot Guard" trilogy, particularly as the first book was dedicated to my grandmother, felt like an emotional Everest. Ideas would surface and then just as quickly evaporate, leaving behind a graveyard of half-started stories and fragmented thoughts.
I felt weak, and out of control. Unmoored. Distraction was a lifeline.
Looking back, I realize this phase wasn't about running away from my problems indefinitely, though at the time I really hoped I could… It was a coping mechanism, a necessary detour on my journey through grief and healing. My dance with distraction wasn't a sign of weakness; it was a testament to my resilience, a way to keep moving forward when standing still felt too painful.
And here's the thing about growth—it doesn't follow a linear path. It zigzags, circles back, and sometimes sits down on the side of the road, refusing to budge. But eventually, it moves forward. I've since learned to face my demons, to sit with my thoughts, and to embrace the healing power of reflection. This blog post isn't a confession of ongoing avoidance; it's a reflection on a period of my life when distraction was my life raft.
So, to anyone out there who's ever found themselves binge-watching a show to avoid dealing with emotions, or throwing themselves into work to escape the quiet—it's okay. It's all part of the process. The key is not to stay lost in the distraction but to recognize it for what it is: a step on the winding path of healing and growth.