Musings @ MindSay

Well, as you know, I spoke about the invitations that had arrived and all that, and that I was going to try to write addresses and so on.  Well, those were certainly famous last words, but my husband, during his long wait for my three hour operation and during recovery and visiting times, got them all done for me with record speed. He is the more organized of the two of us, and treated me royally while I was so sick...better than usual.

He bought me a portable dvd player so that I could watch a movie or two while having to lie down in bed...because it hurt too much to sit.  He brought food home so that I didn't have to cook and was just generally a darling, looking after me so nicely.  I am grateful to have such a caring man! :)

I am a bit tired of not being able to sit on my rump, but it is getting better with each day. I hope I can at least go back to church on Sunday. My post op is on Thursday and is only down the road, but Lawl still has to come and take me since the doc gave me specific instructions not to drive, especially my little Geo Metro which is like a log wagon to drive, not having power steering.   I am sure to get a good report...and more pain killers I hope...they sure do help to relax me and help me sleep ...most of the time.

I thank you all for your loving thoughts and replies during this time, and even worrying about me when I didn't get back quite in time for your liking!

I am going to go outside tomorrow for a while; may even take a blanket outside and lie in the shade.  It has been over 84 in this apartment and seems there is no relief unless one finds a cool spot...so we'll see.  I like being spoiled and loved, so in that way, I have definitely enjoyed the last week...I am a glutton for love and attention, as you all know!

I thought I had something else to say and I just seem to be rambling...so I'll get off of here and if I think of what it was, I'll blog again later.

God bless you all
Love you more than you know
bonnie

I’ve been slightly cross these past couple of weeks.   The first week I could blame it on the suspicion that I might be getting sick (you would think, after all these years, I would clue in to the fact that when I get a severe mood swing during the day – giddy mania one moment, sullen seething navel-gazing the next – typically means I’m about to get a cold.  I’m not exactly the best sick person ever.  It’s like I resent my body for not working properly).

This week… I don’t really have an excuse.

Although, there’s been some change, and even though I like a bit of adventure, I find I don’t really like change.

Namely, I’ve started a small group for my girls.

Well, girl.  Just one.  For the moment.

Which means I’ve actually had tidy up the cave I call my apartment and be hospitable.

I’m deeply envious of those folks who are the perfect hostesses.  Because I am not one.  My space is sacred, and I don’t share very well.

But it’s good for me to let other people into my apartment (and by extension, my world).  Right?  Right?

Right.

I do like the fact I will have a reason to keep things clean and tidy every week (instead of letting the books and papers and clothes pile up, as is their wont.  Creative?  You betcha.  Organized? Hah).

My apartment has never felt so spacious.

It’s a relief, honestly.  Since I’d grown accustomed to my clutter, I didn’t fully realize that my surroundings easily influence my mood.  But now that I’m not hiding behind my messy piles of papers and books (really, I don’t know how I accumulate all these things – it’s like they just grow on their own accord), I find I’m more relaxed and not as stressed out – no doubt because before I’d be overwhelmed by the chaos, but because I was overwhelmed, I wouldn’t know where to start in fixing it, and hello, vicious cycle.

But my apartment has been clean’n’tidy (aka presentable to the outside world) for a week.  So you’d think I’d get over this crazy mood, right?

Wrong.

I was describing it to one of the ladies last night (I’m beginning to realize I’m falling into the bad habit of talking before I think.  On one hand, this is good – because I’m apt to spend too much time thinking.  But on the other – no one likes a babbler).  Apparently I feel that I’m falling back in the routine of pleasing everyone, and I’m fed up.  I just can’t do it anymore.

And you know what?

I can’t.

I mean, I really can’t.  I can’t even try.

And I think that’s the problem.

I want to be a people-pleaser.  Very much so.  Disharmony hurts me – I mean, really, truly, hurts me.  A physical reaction.

Yet I can’t.  My attempt to shed pretense has been successful.  I’m no longer able to disappear into the shapeless blob I used to be, hiding my personality for fear I’d be wrong.

So you would think I’d be pleased.

Instead I’m cranky and grumpy and cross and completely devoid of patience.

Even worse, I’m finding out that next on the list of things to tackle are relationships.

At the moment, I like being alone and disconnected.

Which is maybe why I’m cross.  Because as I mentioned earlier, I’m not very good at letting people into my world.  I have a few fairly close friendships – that’s all I really need.  I love my family, but I’m comfortable not seeing them or hearing from them every week.

I’m excellent at independence and solitude.  That is my domain.

But it’s not what is best for me.

Last year was shedding pretense.  This year, it looks like cultivating real, solid, deep relationships.

It’s hard to make friends when you’re grumpy with the world.

Sometimes I feel like a fraud.  Sometimes I think, this can’t be real.  I can’t be real.

But it’s only in my realness that I don’t feel real.

Sometimes I wonder if I exist outside of my own mind.  My world exists in my mind – why shouldn’t I?  Do other people see me?  Perceive me?  Understand me?

That’s when I feel like a fraud, because I see that the person other people see isn’t really me.  But it’s the only me that they know.  So it must be real.

But it isn’t.

The more I invest in something, the more I want to run from it.  It hurts.  Too much.  To care so deeply about something but to have no one know you care.

To ignore my Cause is to ignore me.

But maybe I don’t exist.

Advance.  Retreat.

Advance.  Retreat.

Advance. Retreat.

Retreat.  Retreat.  Retreat.

To all appearances, I’m doing well.  Nearly half my evenings are spent with other people – people I love and enjoy and generally am glad to know.  I am slowly learning the art of idle chatter as I pretend I’m interested in the lives of workmates whose names escape me.

Small talk.  Hah. It’s ridiculous, that something called small could be such an insurmountable mountain, a fierce battle from which I rarely emerge victorious. 

Let me hide in my bunker.  Crawl into my shell.  Disappear from the world.

Retreat.  Retreat.  Retreat.

Why am I to be the strong one?  I am weak, so very weak.

Why am I to be the practical one?  I live in daydreams, fanciful daydreams.

Why am I to be the nurturing one?  I can’t even figure out how to properly care for myself.

Words used to be my world.  Stories, songs, books, journals.  But my reading comprehension is dipping.  I miss things. I lose track.

I’m tired.

How do people do it, survive in this world?  The more I engage with people, the more exhausted I become.

Would it be so terrible to find me a small cottage somewhere, and live the reclusive life of which I’ve always dreamed?  Why is community so important, anyway?  Why is this the big battle from which I am unable to escape?

Retreat.  Retreat.  Retreat.

I need a break.

Sometimes, I don’t like myself when I get like this.  No, not sometimes.  Always.  I hate being vulnerable.

But I am like this.

I wish I were perfect, but I’m not.

I wish I were better with people, but I’m not.

Yes, I can be charming.  I can be outgoing.  I can be warm and welcoming.

But sometimes, it all feels so false.

Why are people so hard to love?  Why do I love them anyway?  Why do I care if I love them or not?

Why do I tell myself it doesn’t matter if they don’t love me back?  Shouldn’t it?  Shouldn’t it matter?  To bestow my affection on someone is no easy task – so why am I so willing to throw it away on those who don’t care?

Why do I even ask these questions?

Why can’t I stop caring about people when they exhaust me, they frustrate me, they pull me in directions I do not wish to go, nor believe I should go?

Just let me be alone.  Let me sit and think and be alone.

World, you tire me.

So I retreat.  Today, tomorrow, this week.  I retreat.  Lock myself away.  Disappear into silence.

But I will never stop fighting.

I’m too idealistic.

 

the rain falls, making soft, comforting noises on the asphalt upon impact. my mind races for a moment and just as suddenly comes to a deafening halt. i take another drag of my cigarette--a camel filter, though i normally smoke american spirits. corey said they were out of mine, but i don't begrudge him the difference. at least they're not the sillly soft packs he always manages to buy a thus-disgruntled nattie. i know that when i'm 27 or 37 or 87, i'll look back and think, "honey, you didn't know what old was," but in this moment, i feel old and unaccomplished. i'm seventeen for cripe's sake. my mind then sets about proving me wrong, catalogging achievements. the smoke burns a little more in my throat as the ashes creep ever closer ot the fiberglass filter. pacing should make me warmer, but with every step, the cold sinks a little deeper into my bones. another night-wanderer rounds the corner, avoids eye-contact--the unspoken rule of night-wandering. i long to break the rule, but the primal instinct is ingrained too strongly in the muscles controlling my eyes. as he passes back into the night, i glance down at the cigarette between my fingers. a few more precious drags, and i'll taste filter. i decide against those drags and toss the butt into the gutter. the cherry sighs, a cool sizzle in the rainwater. i sigh in answer, resigned and return to the store. melancholy--not sadness, but decidedly somber sobriety--sets in. nick sees my despondence and gives me a quizzical look. i smile, forcedly, to disspell his concern; it doesn't work. we'll have words later, but right now, it's just not the time for many words.

We are all mostly just one person.  Now some people are a little bit more, and some are a little bit less.  It is odd to be chuggin along your life and encounter a situation that causes you to step beyond who you normally are to be someone else temporarily.  I imagine that if you encounter enough of these situation... you might end up adding that part into who you are.  

 

Actions are often prompted by situations.. how you react is a defining moment in who you are..

Not always is this the case, if you act first you can avoid certain situations all together, again prompting a display of who you are.

 

You must act.  Thus, you must solidify who you are.  All I think I have to say from here is Act wisely.