Oil on Linen

By: L.

May 25 2017

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Category: self

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It is a curious realization that the more I need to write, of late, the less I find myself capable of doing it.  I just want to keep the emotions sewn up neatly and nicely inside myself so that I don’t become needlessly upset over one day’s dramatic turns.  It’s like the news.  It keeps turning up with new horrors so that if you suffer from one, you let a nail in under your skin, and suddenly, you can’t stop the bleeding, the thoughts of what might be.

Still, I realize what a future looks like when I don’t dig my heels in.  When I don’t strive for more.  Even if that more is about following my dream and committing to finding a new way forward, it will still call for a hell of a lot of bombast and chutzpah and girl showing up in her body and home and mind.  Things I’ve found troubling of late.

The places you need to go when you turn your nose up at them are the places that I am going to have drag myself, kicking and screaming through, like a child having a tantrum and you just need that one gallon of milk that has to be at the far edge of the store.
It is so easy to just give on up on a 7-year long habit.  Everything right now has taken on weird new orbits.  The job, the guy, the absent vehicle.  My status of mind is not so great, I realized today, when I let myself take a breath and a couple of lines of personal inventory.  How close I am to being tipped off the table, any ledge of any height, and smashed to bits on the cement.  It wouldn’t take anybody even meaning it, just brush by me without care and I am dust.

I would like to find a better way through this than clenching everything and waiting for the ride to be over from 8-5pm everyday. There’s got to be a passage through this life that doesn’t involve my bowels turning to water as I lay myself on the altar of my own imperfections.

Mainly, I feel like if J. has a streak of bad days and doesn’t speak to me, I start to wonder about this thing of us.  I start to worry about what’s going on on his side of the screen, the stuff of which I have no sway, no control.  Finally, finally today, we were on the same page again after I was so twitchy and hormonal about junk and then he had things and now I just want to be like…okay.  Okay.  I have it on good authority because you have told me that you like me.  It has been a lot of liking you.  It’s been a lot of liking me.  This is nice.  Pleasing and soothing when I have so many other doubts about other things. But some of the first stuff that’s gone away for reasons I don’t understand, I need it back.

Some of the first stuff…that’s the most important stuff there is.