eureka...

i was driving to the old lady high rise, like i do every other wednesday, to take them the HoCo, thinking about the rant i posted this morning, and convincing myself not to pull it down. i self-edit a lot, publically and privately. the things i don't say about how i'm feeling or what i'm thinking might suprise you, sometimes. then again, when i think about the handful of people who actually read this mess, i realize that none of this really ever suprises you. in fact, there are one or two of you who probably know what i'm going to write about before i actually write it. scary, but true.

anyway, on my way to the HoCo, i realized that the antsy feeling, this feeling of not knowing what the deuce is happening, all the angst and the "what does it all mean" boils down to one thing. i've never been anywhere for this long, in my entire adult life. and it scares the shit out of me. four years...a whole presidential term...four years is substantive. four years is not accidental or incidental. four years is a chunk of serious time. i've never done this before. and while it's nice to feel settled...it's also scary to feel this way. there are so many things i still want to do and see and experience. there are days when i worry that being in one place too long will numb me, will lull me into submission and complacency, will quiet the fire inside my head and heart. and the biggest question of all...when will the bottom fall out, the wheels come off, the shit hit the fan? i'm not saying that the worst always happens, i'm just saying that the pattern in my life is such that i have a hard time with relaxing into the salad days, the days of grace...and i know that is something i will struggle with, trusting G-d in the midst of the good days, not holding so tightly to the good of the now that i squeeze the life right out of it.

it was hard to maintain composure in the car today, on my way to see the old gals. i really just wanted to go back to my office, shut the door, and cry. seriously you guys, i know some of this is stage of life stuff, but the other part of it is hormones. pure and simple. i used to think i was going crazy, and then i started charting my moods, crying jags, etc. it all equated to...you guessed it...the flight of the cardinal. it's hard to argue with the red ink on the calendar. and it's hard to deal with between ten and seven days a month of being pretty sure that the whole world hates you and is conspiring to undo everything in your entire life. and that's why i went on anti-depressants for six months two years ago. the meds did the trick. the sharp edges were gone, i didn't cry on the way home from work, or on the way to work, or at my desk, or in the shower, or at stupid commercials, or at cheesey movies, or over really cute little fat kids in chapel. but i didn't really laugh out loud at silly things, either. after about four months, the absence of the sharp edges started to bother me. so, with the agreement of my therapist, i stopped taking them. i knew that i would have to be careful about that segment of the month when things shift, for me. but the sharp edges were important for me to feel. and they feel pretty sharp, right now. i know this will pass, and in four or five days, i'll feel markedly better. i just hate when life things collide with body things, because sometimes, it's hard to know what's incidental and what needs to be addressed.

there are days when i feel like 32 is much older than i would like to be, right now. there are also days when 32 feels very young and inexperienced. there are days when it feels really heavy to be this age, and not have a family established. i can practically hear my eggs getting older. and it's all well and good for people to tell you not to worry, that G-d has a plan, that the more you think about something, the less you trust G-d to do the work, etc. and that's fine. but this is my life. this is my day to day. and sometimes, that sound of those eggs aging is the loudest sound in the universe. now, go ahead and judge me inside your head. i know, i know, i know. this is something i am dealing with in my prayer life and in my time with my therapist. and now, the whole world knows, or at least the interwebs do.

i was in love with a self-confessed trainwreck of a guy for five years. that's a long time, too. and no matter what i tried to be, or do, or sing, or say, i would never add up to what he wanted. and so, on a no-name day in the middle of the summer, i stopped trying. i stopped dead in my tracks, dug my heels in, and willed myself to just lay down on the floor of my deepest self, and just stopped. i realized, a month ago, when i was driving through falfurrias, on my 32nd birthday, that i didn't love him any more, at least not like i had done. i was finished with that part. i couldn't tell you, in the corresponding tears that fell for about twenty minutes, whether i was crying from relief or sadness. i supposed in the final analysis why we cry isn't nearly as important as what we cry over. it all amounts to the same thing, i suppose.

remember when you were losing your baby teeth, how you would feel around with your tongue to see if the new tooth was growing in yet, or how close it was to being at gum level? i keep doing that emotionally, checking that spot where he used to live, to see if anything is new there.i think i finally learned that you can't out-tomato ketchup. i thought getting out from under that feeling would be freeing, and it has been. but G-d, sometimes life comes knocking, and the absolute wrong song comes on, and i have to look into the void, and scream out that i'm not afraid of it.

mil besos,
rmg

have mercy...

ragweed is making me a lunatic. between the ragweed and the hormone swing that comes once a month, this week is about to kill me. seriously. i've cried four times this week, twice over the same scene in a movie. and yesterday, i came home from work early to dose myself with benedryl and tried to sleep off this allergy attack. i think i was about 45% effective.

i feel like someone transfused a bag of molasses into my bloodstream...all slow and draggy. it's miserable. i know i need to be eating better and working out like i did over the summer. i gained back ten of the thirty five i had dropped...not happy, not happy about that at all. i feel stuck, guys. i mean, i hope that i'm not. but i feel that way. like i'm at a dead-end, and can't for the life of me figure out how to turn around, or back out, or climb over the wall. if i felt better, i'd probably make up some bullshit about how i really feel like this is a great moment in my life, in my development as a grown up, blah blah blah. really, what i really want, is just to be bailed out, swooped up, and rescued. i hate how absolutely true and naked that last statement feels and looks.

it's a really super whiney kind of wednesday. and i am wallowing in the whine, ya'll.

did you know that the average person needs between 10 and 12 personal interactions a day to feel connected to the world around them? it's true. now go give someone a hug.

mil besos,
rmg