And I wish I could promise you
A beautiful world
That would never break your heart.
Maybe that’s what we are here for…
We try and fix what comes apart.
–“Love Takes the Best of You” by Catie Curtis
I turned up the music LOUD on my way home tonight, trying to create so much noise that there would be no room left in my car or in my head for extraneous thought processes. It didn’t work.
I wanted to write something silly tonight, just to relax and giggle a little, but it appears that I don’t have it in me right now. You’ve been warned.
Every now and then I just hit the limit of my endurance, and what I really need is to sleep for a day and a night and regroup, alone, and find a way to keep on going. The chances of that wall being hit in coordination with a time when I actually have the luxury of 1) sleeping and 2) being alone are somewhere around 1 in 4,472,912.
I’ll give you three guesses (and the first two don’t count) as to where that wall is relative to my body right now.
On the one hand, I find myself speaking in cheerful, if somewhat alien, prose; the effort to even be coherent is so palpable as to render my speech ridiculous. (On the phone today, in response to whether running downstairs would be inconvenient for me at that time: “Not at all! My downstairs is conveniently located directly below the upstairs!” )
On the other hand, while no one ever accused me of NOT taking things to heart, normally, when I reach this point it’s as is everything I feel is magnified a hundredfold. I’m basically strolling around as one gigantic emotion neuron, randomly firing every third nanosecond. The fact that I have enough energy left over just to breathe is a minor miracle.
So here’s a few things that have become a bit too large for head. I’ll let them out–maybe put them on a Christmas list, let’s say!–and maybe tonight I will sleep.
I would like to figure out how to handle success. When I set a goal and actually achieve it I would like to ENJOY IT. The whole freaking out and being overwhelmed thing is getting old. I’m ready to move on.
While I’m at it, maybe if getting to that point wasn’t rife with the conviction that I was poised on the edge of failure every moment that would be useful. Perhaps.
I would like my loved ones to be healthy. When they aren’t, I want to know what to do instead of feeling helpless.
I propose renaming the “sandwich generation” to “the milkshake generation” on account of sandwiches really do not experience the swirling agitation that really should be integral to the metaphor.
I very much wish peace and fulfillment for my ex-husband, but for largely selfish motives. Still, I feel like it’s okay because as long as I’m not pulling for his demise, I’m making progress.
I used to always say that I wish I felt less. That’s not quite right. So then I think really, what I want is to be less of a sponge for the emotions of others. That’s not it, either. The solution lies somewhere in figuring out that which constantly eludes me–how to bend without breaking. I don’t WANT to turn my emotions off. I see the people who do and they’re not any happier, they’re just miserable in a different way.
I would like some cookies. Or maybe cake.
And a nap.
I have been blessed with wonderful friends and I hope that they are able to take even a fraction of the joy in me which I do in them. Sometimes I am not the friend I should be. Sometimes I’m not sure why. Sometimes, I am afraid of admitting why.
I want to get through this happy shiny joyful holiday season and manage that which is not at all joyful in a way that works. And eke out and celebrate every iota of happiness I can, wherever they may be found.