Sometimes the people that your ex left you for were actually much better for them, and they are happier now, and they absolutely don’t regret leaving you to get with them.
When I am alone at night, I often lie in bed, struggling to relax, old injuries flaring up without the slightest provocation. The sharp aches will roll from shoulder to neck to hip to knee before finally resting heavily on my mind, pulling at strings and squirming around in areas better left alone. I recall my lesser moments, brief periods of time in which I’ve said the wrong thing and have only regretted it when the time has long passed for apologies. Many people can recall childhood memories of laughter on the playgrounds, softball games, time spent with friends and family. My only memories of my youth are of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, insults shouted out of anger and embarrassment, periods in history in which I shamed my parents. I recall fights from a few months ago, spawned from pride and the inability to understand that my thoughts and feelings are truly not the only ones that matter.
I craft countless apologize during these dark, pre-sleep periods. My eloquent words toil aimlessly throughout my head, accomplishing nothing but the progression of my long list of regrets.
It is with these things considered that I spend my waking hours exhausting myself, numbing myself with external stimuli in hopes that when night falls, I will be anaesthetized enough to sleep through the night.
i’ve been living in corvallis for about two weeks now. and i’m going completely stir crazy. i’ve yet to find a job, i spend my days meandering about playing ‘house wife’ while my bf is off doing military things, i study my a&p book until i feel like vomiting, and i wait until 6pm to go ride/play with/check up on my wild beast horse who has been enjoying her summer home a little too much.
also, still not sure if pursuing a career in nursing is what i want. i want to write but have no idea how to break into that field, i want to edit but only freelance, and i want to NOT be bored to tears before classes even start.
so, i find yummy things to bake, do loads of sit ups, body resistance work outs to make up for said gained calories, and i attempt to NOT get sunburned for the 10th time this summer while i breathe in fresh air, tend to the volunteer vegetable garden left by our landlords, and defend my herbs from insect intruders …
must. find. answers.
I was scheduled for a nasty little procedure with my doc on Friday and because it was my second time through and I was terrified, I asked them to give me a little something something to help me through the process.
My GOD. It was the little pill that could. I was prescribed 5mg of diazepam, the generic equivalent of Valium, and for the entire 6 hours it was in my system, a new world opened up for me. I am a naturally, uh, “high strung” person. I stress and pour over minute details of my daily life, get upset with my wonderful boyfriend for random, inconsequential things, and lose many, many hours of sleep at night because I’m so caught up in a life without a relax function.
I’m at avid yogi, a professional equestrienne, a student, and a voracious reader so my life is full of many activities that should insight relaxation. However, it’s the little things that burrow deep into my overactive imagination and make me want to pull my hair out. My brief stint with the little pill showed me how peaceful my life could be, and should be.
So, today, as I sit amid a stack of boxes that refuse to unpack themselves into my summer house, I think back on how much nicer life is when worrying isn’t an option.
“A Letter I Will Never Send”
… y’know, just because.
Maybe instead of worrying about where each story is going, who each character is going to become, and whether anyone will even care enough to read any of it, maybe I need to stop caring? Maybe instead, I need to shut off the planning and the thinking and just let everything unfold itself onto paper as it chooses to.
Maybe, that’s how I should start looking at life. Let everything unfold and the cards fall where they may.
I am spending the day writing. At the request of my significant other.
He’s inspired me with a few writing exercises which I will delve into and share at a later time, but today is a therapy today.
Today, I begin the healing process that is 2 1/2 years overdue: I am going to begin to deal with the events leading up to and surrounding the death of the most influential and important person in my life: my grandfather.
Pouring out a collection of stories and thoughts about his life and the way he has affected me will be the initial step in becoming the carefree, truly- uninhibited individual that I used to be.
The results of this healing will hopefully be a better understanding of myself, a return to the creative way in which I used to see my world, and a healthier way of viewing and handling death.
I’m having an existential crisis …
Should I start posting my less-than-innocent-eyes-friendly creative writing ? Or keep it to myself ? Decisions, decisions…