I have not decompressed but when I read the post above it’s what I dream about.
For me, decompression would look like being able to break away from the routine.
we’ve visited the same high street chain for the last 14 years for lunch on the same day of the weekend. Every bloody weekend.
having someone available with free time to have me as their special interest, not their special interest.
breaking out of every aspect of the routine which has broken me
being able to feel joy, which has been taken from me
to not care about the order in which things are done, or the “right thing for the right job”
not being criticised for just living according to what I thought was ok. (It’s not ok, apparently)
having friends over. Having friends stay over. Having fun. Having frivolous non sensical, throw caution to the wind moments.
to feel alive again. To feel like me, with hope, instead of endless putting one foot in front of the other. The trudge, the boredom, the monotony, the exhaustion.
of course in all life there’s some of that but it’s interspersed with something that lifts you up. But I don’t get that. Decompression would look like a lot of that. Freedom just to exist again, as me.