It began a few days ago.
I’d been going along, writing and tearing up, as per this blog post/ book. I was feeling pretty good… low on pain, high on life. Wheeeeee!!!
I got my paycheck on Friday and (as sometimes happens) it didn’t stretch quite far enough. I have new glasses to pick up, some marketing expenditures I’ve never had before, my cell phone bill and food for the next two weeks. More than usual. And so, I did none of it.
Well, except some food. Are cookies food? I bought cookies. And then, I ate them over a two night span. To be fair, a sleeve of cookies is not the sleeve it used to be. Gone are the days of 24 cookies in a row. Think six, maybe eight, if you’re lucky. But I digress.
Yesterday was a friend’s wedding reception. I was so excited to see her — it’s been a few months since we saw each other face-to-face, hug-to-hug. I’d never met her new husband. This made me a little nervous. In fact, a lot nervous.
In fact, there were lots of people we didn’t know. Her very large family and his. Their friends, all Harley and/or country music enthusiasts. Not a lot in common. With us, I mean. They had lots in common with each other, of course. See, now I’m nervous. And blathering.
By the way: I love the camaraderie and community. We don’t ride… and as far as country music, my taste is quite eclectic and I’m all over the country oldies. My husband is a punker, through-and-through. So, not a lot to talk about. I mention this only in relation to our anxiety, not about the people, who were friendly and welcoming. We are not good in crowds, either one of us. Anxiety sucks.
You can imagine our delight when we saw an unexpected familiar face and her fella. Well, we knew her, not him. But it was fun to catch up with her and get to know him.
In the end, we stayed over two hours, which is really good for us. We ate, we visited, we left before the cake was served.
We got home and I finished part two of the Great Cookie Scarfing and then it was off to bed. I was watching a YouTube video when it occurred to me that I hadn’t written (see link above) for two days. By then, it was after midnight, husband was asleep next to me and I wasn’t going to turn on a light to write. I also remembered that watching anything on a screen is BAD for restorative, restful sleeping, which I’ve only heard about a bazillion times, the last time in that same book linked above.
Reminds me of a short story: I’m at my sister’s house with her two daughters, who were about 6 and 10 at the time. Her youngest daughter leans in to me, telling a story. She looks right into my eyes with a twinkle in hers and says: “I knew it was wrong, but I did it anyway!” We laughed and laughed.
Funny when you’re 6. Not so hilarious when you’re nearly 60.
This morning, I woke up with a headache. Cookies, much? Overcast and rainy? Yep, on both… migraine-central. I took my meds and stayed in bed. Two hours later, my husband and I went to the grocery store to buy some real food (and cat treats, if you must know!). All the sudden, in the middle of the isle with fabric softener… my knee went twang and nearly gave out.
(EFF word!! You know, in my head.)
All at once, I felt like crumpling on the floor and pounding my fists. Why? Because I’m angry. Why is it that I can’t get away with anything? <<< Me, feeling sorry for myself and becoming, once again, the victim. That link right there? It’s from my post last-freaking-Sunday. Only one week ago! It’s like I’m back at the beginning again. Such a hard pill to swallow! So easy to fall back. So damned easy.
As we drove home, I told my husband that I was hungry. I hadn’t eaten before we left. It was, by then, noon. I know. Don’t tell me. So, when we got home, I whipped up two pieces of french toast (pictured). I’d bought some Brioche bread (yummy). I wanted it quickly, so I turned the heat up high. The result? The bread is fragile, tender… and the hot pan burned it almost immediately. I put too much syrup on it to mask the charcoal flavor and ate it anyway. I know. Don’t tell me.
I took a photo of it because I knew there was a lesson in it. And here it is: I keep forgetting that I am fragile and tender sometimes. I am also resilient and strong (and flavorful? No, that’s taking it too far. lol <<< that’s me, trying to steer you away from the seriousness with a bit of levity. Did it work?).
The point is… I know what I need to do.
I am not a child, nor a victim. That doesn’t mean I’m not – at times – fragile and tender. The heat may be high but I don’t have to jump into the pan.
It would be so much easier if, once we learned something, we just did it automatically. Most of us don’t… it takes time to create a habit. I’m always too hard on myself.
The other day, Flavio mentioned we all have free will… and I’ve been using mine, haven’t I? Of course, there is such a thing as using free will to do the right things.
When I’m feeling fragile… which I am right now… I must remember… it’s not one day at a time… but one moment.
I will begin again. And keep the heat as low as possible.