I haven’t posted anything in a while, and there’s a reason for that. I was starting to feel like if I couldn’t end up being upbeat, if I couldn’t be amusing, inspirational, or at least educational, then I had nothing of value to say. No! Fuck that! I won’t apologize for having days where I can’t be entertaining or amusing. It’s hard enough to be that way for myself, let alone think that I’m living for anyone reading this, that my life is a performance, and that dammit, it had better be good. Sometimes I overcome and can be positive. I can be charming. I can be amusing. I can be instructional. And damn it all, sometimes I don’t make progress, I go backwards. Sometimes, life is flotsam and jetsam adrift. Sometimes, life is dreck. Sometimes, there is not an amusing thought in my head. And if you want to skip those days, or if you want to decide I have nothing to say that’s worth your while, that’s your prerogative. Yes, I’m feeling rebellious today. Pissy even. I’ll try not to take it out on anyone. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to live my life for anyone but me today. It’s not that I don’t love you, it’s not that I don’t like you. But I’m going to do exactly what I want and need to do for me today. I don’t even want to take the chance that someone else is going to pop up and that through interaction with them, blameless as they may be, my day is going to take a nose dive.
I actually wrote quite a bit yesterday, and didn’t post it. This is part of what I wrote yesterday:
Today is starting to be dreamy…I woke up feeling as though I had to get down to business. Instead I am going to float through this day. It’s going to be enjoyable. Yes, I will work on my house, but I won’t make it my focus. My mind will be on music, and cleaning will be an accompaniment. I will look at this day through a sensual lens–I am beautifying my house. Later I have a bubble bath planned with candles and rose-scented water and music. Lately I have felt more like a worker bee (read drone) and less like a woman in touch with her femininity. All business and no magic. I’m going to make some magic in my day today. I’ve washed and brushed and slathered myself with organic lemon lotion. My skin is soft and supple and creamy. I smell like a lemon tart–which makes me think of making one. We shall see. Simply put, I am in love with this day. Honestly, I will allow nothing and no one to steal my joy today. No arguments, no bad feelings, no guilt–just love, good will, and an undercurrent of sexual tension and desire…yes, I am thinking of Trey’s impending visit. I’m wrapped in a cocoon of love, beauty, femininity, and anticipation.
It’s later, and again, back to my reality…is it possible to experience a day without some type of pain? Maybe, but I can’t think of the last time that’s happened to me. I don’t know how to get back to the place I was. Perhaps after I talk to my children and take my bath, I will be able to put myself there. I haven’t any wine, and I now wish I had a bottle chilling in the fridge. I do have champagne, but do I want to open a bottle just for me? Damn. It’s been sitting on the shelf for months now. Why the hell not? Seriously, I don’t drink often, I don’t drink to change my mood, and I don’t drink to excess, but if this isn’t a case for a glass of champagne, what the hell is? Yep, a bottle of St. Clair Winery demi-sec Bellissimo is going into the freezer right now. I can use some to make blackberry champagne cupcakes tomorrow. Actually, it seems best to put off this bath until tomorrow. My birth-father says that a person can start her day over as many times as she needs to. Sometimes that doesn’t work for me, but tomorrow truly is another day. I am not sad right now. I am just not in the place I was earlier. And that’s okay.
I have appointments tomorrow with my psychologist, Dr. M., and my psychiatrist, Dr. K. We’re probably going to tweak my medication because I am more depressed than usual. Not surprising after the holidays I put myself through. Maybe I put myself through them in the way that I did because I was depressed. Sometimes I’m not sure which came first, the chicken or the egg. But I do NOT want to dwell on feeling crappy, and I’m actually not feeling crappy, just not happy and in love with the day. I want to examine it and see what I can do to either avoid have such great expectations, or what I can do to keep from walking into the same trap again and again. No, today wasn’t all bad. I was feeling lovely and dreamy for a while. My dining room is looking beautiful again. All I need to do is clean the floor–damp mop and and some polish. I need to do the dishes. It’s already somewhat late, so I’ll do that tomorrow and hopefully I can get living room done also and all the floors. I’m getting there. Not as fast as I wish, but I am getting there. And no one is helping me. I don’t need anyone to help me with this. I can do it on my own.
My horoscope this week from Rob Brezny’s Free Will Astrology says, “There were problems with the soccer balls used in the World Cup last year. Many players felt they were difficult to control. Their trajectory was unpredictable. Brazilian forward Luis Fabiano went so far as to say that the ball “doesn’t want to be kicked.” Other players said the balls were poorly made, like those “you buy in a supermarket.” I bring this to your attention as a cautionary metaphor, Cancerian. In 2011 you will be taking part in your equivalent of the World Cup. It will be crucial to have the very best tools and accessories. You can’t afford to play with balls that don’t respond accurately to your skillful means.” Interesting. I will keep that in mind.
The woman’s mission is not to enhance the masculine spirit, but to express the feminine; hers is not to preserve a man-made world, but to create a human world by the infusion of the feminine element into all of its activities.” ~ Margaret Thatcher
(Can you fucking believe that Margaret-fucking-Thatcher said something like that?) Then I started to write about a dream I had the night before. But I didn’t know what it meant and it was dark. So instead I started to insert this more pleasant dream that I had some years ago. What the fuck am I doing? I have enough pressure, outward and inward, without feeling I have to be inspiring, positive, and insightful. I am often those things. More often than not. But Christ on crutches! I have days when I want to tell the whole world, “Fuck off! I’m going through some really painful shit! I don’t want to pretend I’m not! And you might inadvertently make it worse, either by saying I should look at what’s positive and judging me for not being able or maybe even willing to do so, or by saying some random thing that will lodge deep within me and cause me pain, and I’m not willing to take that chance, so I’m not talking to you or anyone else today!” Or, “I’m in a really great mood for a change, but I’m not strong enough to deflect any arrows, and I’m afraid if I have talk to you, you could possibly say something that takes that really good place away from me, and I’m not willing to risk that!”
Urgh! Angst! Anxiety! Rebelliousness! Warning! Warning!