Into The Rabbit Hole

Well, I got through this week.  For this, I am impressed with myself.

I found myself cranky, irritated, and within my head, I was downright mean to people.

Biting my lip in a time of extreme stress is exhausting.

You have to bite your lip, though, because feeling bad is relative.  And when one person feels like they just had a hellacious week, what they experienced may not seem like such a bad experience to the next person.  And vice versa.

Anyway, I suppose the point is that I did it.  I’m done with my classes.  I have this weekend off from the kids, and I will write my two papers.  Hopefully I get them completely done in the next few days.

Tonight I’m not really sure I know what to do with myself.  Part of me wants to escape while the other part knows I can’t celebrate entirely until I complete these papers.  The house is somewhat of a disaster… though I did just do a bunch to clean it up.  It was quite unnerving to have my entire family come over to drop off a bunch of my great grandpa’s furniture… I was fifteen minutes later than I said I’d be, and they had unloaded all of the furniture into the driveway… the same driveway that I had spilled some dog poop on while bringing the trash can to the curb for trash day.  I walked inside to put the dogs out back to discover that the dogs had somehow maneuvered their way into the trash can and had strewn coffee grounds everywhere.  Fabulous.  Then I recall that I cannot let the family see the last couch they gave me, as the dogs have destroyed THAT, too.   Just throw it all into the garage, folks…

Thankfully, my uncle & his buddy will come back tomorrow to move the rest of the furniture.  I think they’ll take away that couch the dogs have destroyed, too.  I’ll put my Pappa’s furniture in the basement, keep the old, destroyed couch cushions on the floor so the dogs have something to sleep on, and cover the new couches with sheets and pillows so the dogs stay off of them.  That way if I ever want to sit on them, I can just pull the sheets off.  Yesh…

I re-potted the plans I “inherited,” one of which I gave my Pappa Luke for his birthday.  It’s a beautiful dracanea… and the other is a pothos; I’m not sure where that one came from.

Shit… I can’t believe he’s gone.   I suppose it’ll all sink in on Monday, when I go through the motions of a funeral.  I suppose funerals are good.  I cry and all those normal things… I like funerals better than bridal showers, I guess.

I’ve noticed feeling terribly surreal lately.  Nothing seems real.   Has Landon really been gone for four weeks?  Today is the beginning of the fifth week.  Almost half way through.  I guess being alone here in our home on a Friday night is real enough.  I feel bad that I don’t really have it in me to love on the dogs.  They’re four weeks without a bath… I’m allergic to them… I don’t know if I can convince Emma to get in the bathtub.

I guess tonight I’m a little blue.  Now that I mention it.  Should I work on my papers, or should I relax some?  Should I read a book?  And if so, where?  Down here in the living room or up in my bedroom?  Should I eat something?  That would mean I have to prepare something.  I just want to skip dinner.  I’ve skipped lots of dinners in the last month.  Too bad it’s not showing in my belly yet.  Or maybe it is…

The fucking neighbor dog won’t shut up.  Rah rah rah rah rah rah rah rah rah rah rah.  Yeah, it annoys me, too.

Pink Floyd.  Typing on my blog.  Sitting here.  Pretending nothing is real.  Nothing has to be real.  It could all just be my imagination anyway…

The contrast.  It does something… something good.  It makes the good things extraordinary.  Oh yeah, I like the contrast.  Or maybe I like the pain.  Perhaps I’m a masochist.  Yes.  I’ve always been an emotional masochist.  A proverbial cutter, I enjoy emotional pain.  It reminds me I’m alive.  Or some fucked up thing like that.

It takes courage and maturity to recognize when something isn’t right for you.

Change is frightening, and sometimes we take comfort in just keeping the status quo.  However, as much as it’s frightening, stagnation can require much more energy from you than putting forth the effort to not only DECIDE what you want, but then to ACT and GET what you want.

Much of this life is a game, and the future is often unknown.  It’s unpredictable, and it can be awkward.  However, there are no rules to the game.  Ahem, let me rephrase that.  There are optional rules, imposed by our civilization, and should we choose to step outside of its boundaries, there are consequences, though we are perfectly able to choose to step outside of the boundaries, should we find the benefit to outweigh the possible repercussions.

Now, this is the simple overview.  Let’s make it a little messy by throwing in emotion.

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It’s completely pointless to wonder if you’ve chosen well.   Pointless to query whether the decisions you’ve made were an accurate reflection of the things you wish to represent you.   The facts of the matter are that there are NO right or wrong decisions, and that everything we do is an opportunity to experience this life– in the highs and lows, in the hopes and dreams and everything that is magnificently interwoven within the short time we have here on this planet.

I’m so fucking exhausted.  Emotionally, mentally, philosophically, spiritually, physically.

These are my choices, though.  This is the path I’ve ventured down and I’ve no desire to move backwards, by any means.  You don’t turn around every time the terrain gets rough.  You either find a way across the terrain or you find a new path.

I’ve no interest in finding a new path.

I just have to get past this sketchy spot– this gap in the road where I must fearlessly dangle or else fall down.  I am Rockstar.  I don’t fall down.  I may gracelessly fling myself at the other side, but I most certainly DO NOT FALL DOWN.

There are so many lessons I’ve gathered.  So much time now to sit down and reflect on them.  Analyze them, take from them my understanding of how my actions created the domino effect that led me to where I’m at right this minute.

To be perfectly clear… I feel this way every year during this time in the semester.

I feel drained.  I’ve seen this pattern in myself.  This is the time of year that I start going to the doctor asking, “WHY am I so exhausted?”

Well, let’s see here, Ash.  What could you possibly be doing that makes you exhausted???

*thinking*

The definition of insanity is to continue repeating the same behaviors– yet expecting something new to happen.

Is there truly something I could do differently that would make me less exhausted yet still maintain my Rock Stardom?

Ideally, I would like to have less on my plate.  I’m ready to settle down.  To lessen the force I put upon myself.  To not aggravate the stress fractures within my stable Rock Starness.

Apparently, though, I enjoy pushing myself to the brink of breakdown.  I want to see Just How Far I Can Go.

Fuck that.  It’s insane and…

Well, it’s me.

I’m totally an overachiever.  I guess I just get bored and have to take it to the next level.  Every damn semester.

So, either I LIKE feeling this way, or I’m crazy.  One of the two.  Either I’m doing it because I’m addicted to feeling exhausted, or I am the definition of insanity.

Great.

Put that in your pop can and smoke it.

I’m a terrible cook.

I mean, I can feed myself.  But I have to feed the kids.  I made chicken noodle soup, using Grammy’s chicken broth.  And I used some tapioca noodles– something we had in the cupboard.

The first go around, I boiled the noodles too long and it ended up a goopy starchy mess.  So I decided to fish all the noodles out, and threw them away.   I boiled a new round of noodles. I put some corn in the broth.  I put the freshly cooked noodles in the soup.

I tried to serve it to the kids.  It wasn’t terrible.

They proceeded to tell me how terrible it was.

I lost it.  I mean, not outwardly.  I threw away the soup.  Cleaned up the kitchen.

I couldn’t not feed them dinner.  I mean, they’re just kids and they weren’t intentionally trying to hurt my feelings.

Luckily there was a can of some gross generic raviolis.  I heated those up, and they ate.  I know they knew I was upset, but they possibly have never seen a grown up on the verge of tears over something they unintentionally did.

A whirlwind of emotions swirled up in me… I went outside and cried.

It’s ridiculous, really.  I should be able to just play along, head held high.  Maybe if I wasn’t such an emotional wreck inside…

My mom called before dinner.  “Are you holding up?”

“yeah.”

“You don’t sound like you’re doing okay.”
“I’m fine.”

I don’t have any other option to be at this point.  She reminded me that I chose all of this.  That I chose to be in this position.  I’m really trying to remember that and to stay positive.  I’m trying to appreciate the beauty, and I refuse to be unhappy this entire time… that’s not healthy.  I also recognize my limitations.  And that I have chosen this and can ask for help.

This is a significant practice in discovering who I am.

Perhaps the tidal wave has crested.

Such amazing energy that storm gave me in form of emotional saturation. I’ve not cried that much in lifetimes.

But now, now it is my role to be a cheerleader.  To keep the spirits high, to remind him of the good life.

Roles are a funny thing.

Oh.  I just realized something intrinsic about myself.

It hit me as I was walking back from the printer/fax machine.

I listen to other people’s feelings so I don’t have to deal with my own.

Fascinating.

Emotions are an interesting lens through which we experience this life.
I think that sometimes we experience emotion so intensely, because it is intrinsic to us and traditionally caused by chemicals within our brain and body,  that we sometimes forget that while our emotions may somewhat define our own personal experience, they do not define the experience of those who are part of our experience.

That’s a lot of experience.

What I’m saying is this: We feel things.  We feel things intensely.  How we perceive (or what our perspective is of what we experience) what happens in our lives is directly influenced by what we’re feeling at the time we are observing our experience.   We can easily become caught up in our emotional perspective, so much so that we forget that what we’re perceiving isn’t necessarily how another person– even one who is intimately part of our experience– is perceiving.

This lack of awareness that another person may not be experiencing the same things– even under identical (if not the same) experiences– is what can cause miscommunication or misunderstanding.

There.  I think I just solved all of the world’s problems.  Go tell all your friends.

As much as I never predicted any of this, I realize that I created it.

And it’s nice. It’s really good.

It sounds like self-righteousness, and in a way it sort of is. But it’s not malicious, and it’s coming from a humble heart. I want understanding from this, not judgment.

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Yunno me… always thinking.I had a rough start to the day.  I was feeling bad, though I couldn’t quite figure out why.  Could be the full moon, or maybe my hormones.  Could be alcohol I drank yesterday– or all the sugar I’ve had over the last 24 hours.  Maybe I’m fighting something off, or it’s the stress of the holidays, or even me just figuring out this parenting and significant other role…

Regardless of why I was feeling bad, I conquered yet another conflict within me: I felt bad, was able to express it, and then worked through it.

For a good part of my life I’ve been hesitant to express when I don’t feel good.  I don’t want to be one of THOSE people who no one wants to listen to because they’re spouting off negativities… I’ve never liked THOSE kind.  I don’t want to be rejected for my feelings, which is something I’ve apparently been conditioned into fearing.  That goes right back to my good old Fear of Abandonment issues… Alas, I recognize those feelings as such and have learned to identify them for what they are.

I’m feeling better now.  I knew the feeling was fleeting.  It’s been a challenging experience dealing with all of life’s stressors, all of the things that just add to the weight I place upon myself. I learned something new today about myself: be gentle.  Allow and accept the bad feeling, and then set it free. 

I’ve also learned about frustrations… about parenting and financial woes… that I DO actually have a breaking point.  Not that I broke that point, but that I have one.   Huh, and all this time I thought I didn’t!

These, to me, are great things to recognize.  To acknowledge them, validate them, and to allow them works far better than to deny them or to hide from them. 

As the evening rolls in, and my tensions are lessened, I’m grateful for the lesson about myself.  Amazing how I can be solidly into adulthood and still be learning about me.  That’s a good thing, I suppose… that’s something that I think everyone should strive to reach for.  It’s a good indicator that I’m still capable of implicit change within me.  To me, that’s one of the best lessons of all.

I’m torn between feeling ecstatic and panic. If this is what manic feels like, which I’ve heard it is, then I can’t imagine cycling through this emotion like a pendulum– one moment invincible, the next moment pummeling through the depths of depression like a fiery comet through the pits of hell… well, then, I’ll pass.

This life is so crazy. Insane. Crackers. Cooo-cooo.

Inevitably, amazing things happen. Of course, then, so do worrisome things. I’ve felt a lot of emotion today… a lot of the precursor towards guilt… not quite guilt, but just enough question in my mind that if I really did fuck things up with so many of the people I’ve experienced in my past, then ouch, I must not be as good of a person as I had thought. At the same moment, right as I’m about to succumb to feeling sorry for myself, the faint whisper in my mind hastens me to stop… Why can’t I be just fine as I am, mistakes and all?

Of course I’m not perfect. You all have followed me along this path of realization that one– that I– cannot always be the perfect (fill in the descriptive role here). I’m not an angel, after all. I may try, but alas, I fall significantly short. So if that is true, and right, and perfect, then why should I feel a negative emotion such as guilt for being human?

My passion for people is proving to be another roller coaster ride… highs, lows, and every place in between. I shed tears for my lost friendships… but in the same body, I recognize that I have three options: change my thoughts, release my thoughts into the Universe, or come to resolve. All of which are valid options, none complete without the others, but some more permanent in healing than the rest.

Choose to resolve. To revolve. To evolve. To embrace the life lessons as my own– my learning opportunities perfectly suited for a Work In Progress such as myself.

How I will go about resolving myself from my sins… is a challenge most people would gift a god. Dear Father in Heaven, save me from myself. Forgive me my sins.

What does a child do who has no Father? Does she cry out with self pity? Does she wallow in misery knowing that no imperfect creature such as herself could possibly pursue the expression of bliss?

I can’t go that route. I can’t allow myself to rot that way.

Instead, I will learn to forgive and embrace myself. In all my passions– my pitiful behaviors– my oversights and loose tongues. I allow it to be my experience, and yet strive for perfection.

They say perfection is god’s work.

And in saying yes, I recognize the goddess in me.