The train that carries the boxcars full of energy has now gone off to the depot so it is hard to gather up the words, the hip hip hooray, the celebratory tone to tell you that despite my misgivings, my outright fear, and my basic laziness, I drove to work today. Not only that, but through the snow, with only a sense of rationality that I find unnerving and my questionable belief in my cell phone’s navigation system to guide me, I drove home. I share these small, insane successes that are profoundly big deals, really, even if they also make me feel wildly ashamed that I have to be glad of the fact I can get home from work…bt I do…because the panic was there. I could feel it fibrillating and shimmering around me. Yet, it didn’t get the best of me. It didn’t take hold of my reasoning and processing and it didn’t make the fact that if I don’t drive my car home, someone else has to involve themselves and as nice as it would be to have someone motivated to involve themselves in my worries and woes, goddamn, it is also a good feeling to be able to take care of yourself. Even if it means tracing backroads and going slow and being “that” person. I always worry what everyone else thinks of “that” person – but they have their reasons. I know I do.
So, today was work. There is nothing to say. Boss was kind, but in meetings, sister was working down the hallway, I was doing my best to remember what I was taught and get everyone paid. I can’t even cobble together some drama as there was none. Just work. And there is something grand in the fact that I wring myself out there and we come home and order pizza and I watch videos, read a book (yes, I am reading a book again, it makes my eyeballs feel like they’re stretching their legs out – and yes, I mean just that), and now, write this post before pulling out once more my novel’s outline.
It isn’t real peace, but it is a nice facsimile. The snow isn’t much, just enough to kill the bugs and slow the speed I’ve been running for the past few forevers. I’ve noticed that the images have been very green and spring-like lately, but I finally feel like I’ve caught up with the season. It turned cool while I was in Italy and I’ve just now, ten days later, touched back down on this Mountain Standard frame-of-mind. The fact that Christmas is coming doesn’t feel like an offense, it feels necessary and purposeful. A celebration at the end of a long, straining, year of metamorphosis. Of resting on the laurels of legitimate, measurable, R on your I. Maybe put on some music, kickback, and relearn the odd feeling of not waiting to be knocked on your own petard. I will see you in the morning, friends.