My world took a snow day. We spent 300 each on a regulator for our water pressure. I got a work email from the old job and answered it, though I did realize now, having pulled the bedding apart to get it washed that I got texts and calls about the matter as well. I mean, hell, I don’t know. One of the things I was thinking about towards the end as I made my decision to leave the old place of employ was how little I liked the constant umbilicus of work. I like the feeling of going to work, doing work, and then going home to not think about work. Something my therapist felt was a good thing for me to do regardless, but it was really hard to do when you’re getting calls from your boss asking how things are going or 4-10 emails about things that are going on which always translated into tasks to do. Now, I made myself a to-do list because I have a lot to remember, and I emailed it to myself and I forgot about work today. It made space for other things in my head and it is a curious feeling when other worries and other concerns start to spread their wings.
Desire for worthiness. Desire for organization. Desire for generosity (in the form of starting to think about Christmas presents early this year. For other people, not myself, mind. Since starting old job, I’ve sort of just begged off proper Christmas gift-giving, the thoughtful, target-specific kind. It would be nice to pay some attention and show up with things that aren’t glorified gift-cards.) Desire for health. The remainder of yesterday’s pizza, enough Diet Dr. Pepper to make my muscles twitch beneath my skin, some Cheerios, and a waffle can’t constitute any sort of “diet” – it’s just random shit my body, it seems, has no idea what to do with anymore. I definitely feel…off. Like the cough is still just lingering, haunting my throat. I definitely want to do something about it. But I don’t want to subscribe. I think like I’ve been advised here, just some sanity would go a long way, to get through the holidays and be in a position to consider the value in a “body strategy” for 2015. To not feel like I am starting from square one, even though, honestly, I only ever start from the bottom. That’s what tells me it’s time, generally, to stop with my lawlessness and to put on the bridle and chase the carrot, so to speak. But I’m having one of those instances where I just feel really sad that I can absolutely get why I’ve done this – turned off the valve that allows me to relate my body to the outside world – and now I find myself in a position where I feel inflow of finding someone “sparkly” and I go to flick the switch, to start the works back up again, and it’s not…it’s not happening.
That you can have all the patterns and plans and blueprints for life, and be angry at yourself for not following them, but nothing beats the random arrival of a kindred spirit to make you realize you maybe have your priorities all wrong. And having done the few things I’ve done this year, traveling, quitting, writing, I want to plateau. I want to stop and steady my steps, but there’s no time for that and I feel the pushback in every direction. I look at my draft and it’s not good enough. I look at this room and it’s despairly not good enough. I look at the job and I’m not writing, therefore, it’s not good enough. I look at the balance of time and I’m failing right now. It says what foolishness is this to even think about saying hello? To speak of admiration as if speaking does not mean asking to be seen, to be judged. I become a pebble beneath a warhammer. I become nothing in the face of the shame I feel at being a thing that has navel-gazed herself away.
Like, this is such non-issue, me finding someone on the internet swell and me being flummoxed and frustrated that I am neither witty enough nor beautiful enough to allure them away from their far-distant life and into mine where I would gasp in horror if they were suddenly to appear. As though it’s just a matter of me having the self-esteem to charge in and send emails and click like buttons and then, the ineffable romance I desire will be secured. I mean, this is not a problem that I am required to solve, but it is illustrative of the issue at hand. When the man arrives in my life, the tangible, localized threat he will be, that I do care about in this sort of way, what the hell am I supposed to do about it? Because my response in the past has been non-response. And posts like this. Circuitous thinking.
I want to grow. I feel like losing weight, ironically, is a part of that. A critical part given how much I choose to think about it.
The new insurance covers therapy. Thinking about it. Really thinking about it.