King Distraction

My sweet mom grew up on a dairy farm in the mighty state of Idaho. Needless to say I have tons of memories visiting my cool grandma and grandpa and their farm. There was hay, horses, hay, cows, hay, dogs, hay and wild life visitors. I never milked a cow, which I'm not too desperately disappointed about but I saw my grandpa do it and that was okay with me. I was able to ride horses, which was cool until I fell off one. You know that saying that if you fall off a horse you need to get right back on. I never got back on and to this day horses terrify me. I mean do they really have to be in parades? My kind grandpa did have me help him once or twice though with some jobs around the farm. There is one that I will never forget. I was about ten years old and he needed to move a lot of cows from one side of the farm to the other, which headed out to a field ... or I should say pasture I guess. He would open the gate at the one side of the farm letting the cows loose and have them head down a dirt road. Now each side of the road had something by it preventing them to go any which way they wanted. The only way they could go was down the dirt road. At the other side of the farm the dirt road took you either up to the paved main road or if you took a left it took you out to the fields. My task was a simple one. I was to stand in the middle of the road at the other side of the farm and convince the cows to take a left and head out to pasture. Yep, this little ten year old kid was supposed to do this. I mean holy smokes, right? I did almost say holy cow there. Anyway, I remember standing there looking at the road ready for the cows to be coming straight for me. I recall looking down at the road and picking up two rocks and for whatever reason began to rub them together. I was reaching for any kind of distraction I could get I guess. As the cows came I rubbed those rocks together and screamed at the top of my lungs. I will always say it was to help the cows not pass me and turn left, which they did but truth be told I was screaming for my life. As one could guess, I truly don't like cows and they still freak me out.

In my early stages of battling depression I began to learn the art of distraction. What do I mean? I did anything I could to not entertain the constant dark thoughts that battled for my attention. My psychologist was doing great at teaching me coping skills but being distracted actually brought some sense of beautiful relief. I never was a drinker or one to do drugs but I can totally understand how someone would want to do that to forget about pain for a while. I personally don't condone it but I understand it. If I don't have to look at depression in it's horrible eyes and don't have to think about it than I was on board with distraction. I found that working with wood was a great distraction for me. To the point that I would start early in the morning and not really stop until late in the night. Perfect right? Not having to deal with the consuming thoughts of depression at all! I was King Distraction. I wasn't fighting my depression ... I was running from it. Who really wants to welcome the dark thoughts of depression so you can learn to practice coping exercises? Doesn't sound that fun to me but I knew I needed to do it. I still battle with this and am learning that keeping a balance is crucial for me. When my depression strives to kick my tail I try to look at it in the face and apply my weapons of coping. Some times are better than others. However, I also know that taking a break from that fight by a distraction here and there is okay. Keeping the balance is the hardest task for me, which I work on daily. Staying away from cows and horses helps as well.