Been busy, but found a new avoidance

So I haven't posted in a few day, been busy looking for a new job, and filling out paperwork for said job.

I have managed to stay busy enough that I avoid thinking about much other than the task at hand. Which isn't a bad thing if you ask me, I have felt the wave of emotion, and dread swell up. But I was focused enough, and some where without triggers, that I was able to calm it before it got out of hand.

I have had a few minor episodes, my nightmares are still in that security camera monitor filter. But I am doing good, I would say. On the outside I have been fine, on the inside, it is maintenance as usual. Sewing up the seams before they burst, wielding the beams before they break down around me.

But I have began to avoid something I love. Writing will remain a love, but I have stayed on that task, and written every day. No, I am talking about my workshop. I love my workshop, I have never had a place that I would miss, and I miss my shop. But after I tried to put words to how I felt about it. How when I am in there I am at peace, but when I leave I am a storm racing across the empty plains of my own soul.

I attempted to actually say the words, the words that I have written before. Since that night I have yet to step foot in my shop, I stand on my back patio, watching my shop. Expecting it to say or do something. But I can't bring myself to enter it. I can not walk into and find that peace again. I know that I have peace there, but I have chaos when I leave. I am torn between moments of peace followed by anger, rage, frustration and fear.

Or maintaining a quite overcast of fear, and exhaustion.

I have spent my life being that kid that had his nose buried in a book. I love books, all of them. Except grapes of wrath, I don't know why, but I hate that book. I digress, there have been a few moments in my life where I truly, truly understand a written phrase.

My time in the Army, taught what it means to be "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times" - Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities.

I do not know what love is, from books, or even from what life has taught me. I know love, from when I held my Son for the first time, and he grabbed my finger back. I will never lose that feeling, or that definition for that crazy thing in life, love.

But when I look out on my shop, I wonder if it truly is better to have never loved, than to have loved and lost. (Alfred Lord Tennyson reference, William Shakespeare DID NOT in fact say that as some people think)

I stand there and I wonder that, because if I had never built that shop, I wouldn't be afraid of it. But If I had never built it, I never would have found a short reprise of the peace I once knew in life. I love my shop, I love the work that comes out it, I love the peace. But now that I lost it, I wonder if it is truly worth it.