My safe happy place is in bed with a book. I read voraciously. It's how I cope and where I escape to. My bed and sleep are my escape/coping mechanism. When things are overwhelming I go to bed and literally hide under the covers. The more stressed I am the more time I spend in bed hiding. When I wake up I dive into books which allow me to handle 'other problems' by escaping into fiction. For some one who is as social as I am this seems to be a contradiction, but I really love my alone time.
I've been doing this since I was a child.
Often during these times I figure "it" out. Whatever I don't want to deal with becomes less scary and I handle it. But part of my process is going through by hiding from life.
See most of the time I know the answer, I simply don't like it. I argue and fight with the universe and the message I clearly see, which is hard, because I want the answer *I* want.
As I grow older I am finding things are in flux more often than not. Voicing my fears is easier and harder at the same time. I know when I'm being a stubborn monkey and when holding true to my heart and what I fundamentally believe is the right choice. Sometimes telling the difference for others is really tough.
At the end of the day (or sleepless night) transition is inevitable. Life is inevitable. Some how despite the worry, the confusion and the uncertainty life manages to figure itself out. Joy and comfort resurface and I leap toward the future. Confident. But never without a few days/nights of cocooning inside the safety of love, family and my bed.
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