quiet weekend

It's been a quiet weekend, indeed.  Relatively solitary and peaceful, full of trail running, yoga, bike rides, church, reading, writing, work.  I asked myself around mile 11 of my trail run, as the 4 Non Blonds lyrics, "To get it all out, what's all in my head" coursed through my cerebral cortex, "What do I have to offer to the world?"  My perspective as a single female, age 29.5, living in California.   As a runner?  An Ivy-league graduate"  A single female with a salary and a mortgage?  As roller-coaster love life (currently at a nadir)?  I am the conglomeration of these entities, trying to do my best each day to be a good person, to be creative in my pursuits, to feed my passions and inspire others, to live and love as best I can while here on Earth.

I go to church sporadically - but I went today and came away with the intent to focus on the happiness not on myself and my tiny existence, but on God.  It is hypothesized that the reason for the 1000% increase in depression since the 1950's is due in large part to the lack of our society's sense of a greater power, a Lord God Almighty, or something like that.  I agree w/ this statement but I dare say the increase incidence of diagnosed depression is because the maker's of Prozac, Zoloft, Welbutrin, etc. make a pretty penny every time we get the blues and seek out a way to feel better.  Whereas before, silent suffering was the norm, these days you tell a doctor you're feeling down or tired or anxious or anti-social or confused or any other transient mood and you can walk out with a prescription of your preferred chemical cocktail. 

I'm not against anti-depressants, not at all.  I don't buy into the "comfortably numb" notion that Americans are numbing themselves through medications.  I think we enable ourselves to cope with life in many ways, medications just being one assure our neurotransmitters are up to the task of dealing with the challenges of life.   Sure, a supportive network of friends and family can help with this regulation as well - but for us loners living states away, with self-induced pressures to be and perform in a certain way, with busy schedules that are hardly conducive to bonding with friends, and without a regular sex life - well, sometimes a little extra seratonin or dopamine in one's system can be just enough to keep us functional and, for lack of a better word, something close to happy.

Anyway, where was I going with this?  Oh yes, my quiet weekend.  "Getting it all out, what's in my head."  I'll be 29.5 in exactly 18 days.  On the precipice of that age at which I used to think I'd be married, have a first kid.  But I'm no either of those things.  I've date more men in the last few years than I care to think about.  Why can't I make a long-term relationship work?  This is a big question for me as I'm relatively easy to get along with, reasonably attractive (my facebook friends rate me as #2 on the best body category), and I do fall in love with people.  I also happen to enjoy sex and men, supposedly dig this type of girl.  The last guy that broke up with me said I was "smart, kind, and very sexy"  but he also said i was "righteous" (i think he meant self-righteous) and "didn't feel comfortable thinking about a relationship".  I'll have to get back to you, my future readers, on what he meant by this - something about something that happened or that I did early on in our relationship (it involves another guy driving me to the airport instead of him.  Extremely juvenile, if you ask me).

So, 29.5.  I stand at the precipice - a strong, independent, attractive, athletic, smart single woman.  I am blessed beyond measure.  And all I want is a good, strong, smart, capable man to take me in his arms, adore me, and have a family with me. When I ask myself what I want, that's my only answer lately.  A family.  A man who loves me.  Why?  Because I feel that's what I've been put on earth to do - to raise a family, to love my children and my husband, to take care of them and to receive the joy that comes with giving and receiving love.

On my short bike ride home from yoga tonight, still sweaty, thinking of what to have for dinner, I passed by one of the small little houses that cost millions of dollars here in menlo park.  I glanced through the bay window and saw, sitting around the dinner table, a family.  A man, woman, and child - talking, eating.  Nearly made me cry.

I've been crying more often lately, most regularly after yoga.  It's the emotional release from all the hip-openers, somehow makes my emotions flow out of me.  I cried in yoga class on wednesday during final shivasana.  The song struck me as poignant and sad.  It went like this: "Goodbye, my lover, goodbye my friend."  There might have been a subtle, "Cause I can't make you love me" line in there, too.  Whatever it was struck a chord and  I had tears streaming down my face, but it was dark and it all blended in with my sweat so no one could see.