Some of us turn our heads and some of us engage. I am one that engages.
A stranger. Or a cause of events, particularly bad luck. Cancelled flights. Flat tires. Crowded coffee shops. Lonely holidays. And I search those that I encounter. Their words. Not blinded by sight, age, or situations. For I believe, nothing happens by chance.
And so my life remains interesting. Often others are baffled. The walls in which I sit now left Julie’s mouth agape. But then, she laughed, “You have the craziest life. And I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
And so, did I mention The Man at the airport? A cancelled flight followed by being denied access to the admiral’s club since my membership was months expired. Hours later, I returned to the secured door. And was accepted. No, I didn’t renew my membership, but we all have our ways. The eyes of the lady who refused me shot daggers in my back.
Upon entrance, chairs away, there was a Man. Followed be a lunch, a ferrari and some common similarities. And now a week later, a purchased ticket for me to return to San Juan to meet again. I thought it was just a Sunday night dinner. But a text now reads, “Bring your passport. You need it Monday.”
A script plays through my head. The words to explain that I am not one to be bought. My penniless struggle, my tears, and the suffocation I currently encounter would make such an offer hard to refuse. But refuse I will.
However, the world is not black and white. I will not simply slam the door.
I will search for another . . .
What a week. Feelings of depletion that I have not felt in forever. Overwhelmed. Stressed. Images of growing new appendages as I could not imagine another way to conquer this.
Thursday night, PROBIOTIC asked me what happened to my eye—I had no clue. Walking to the mirror, the hollowness in my face astounded me, the dark circle beneath my left eye rendered me a Rascal- look-a-like. PROBIOTIC then explained that dark circles are the physical manifestation of liver or adrenal issues. Translation: too much drinking or too much stress. Ding Ding! The winner, the latter.
Friday afternoon a sense of calm enveloping my like a safety blanket. On the verge of tears before I went to eat. Upon returning, the world easier, my mind subdued as if in a Xanaz coma, aware that there was only so much I could do and I finally surrendered as if the anxiety induced motivation disappeared.
Which brings me to a thought-motivation. Workaholism is great and is somewhat necessary for productivity. But where is the fine line between being motivated, able to endure working countless hours and balance?
Yesterday I found myself in a stranger’s body. In pilates, my body stiff, however lean but without the athleticism and energy it normally possesses.
This week was also one in which my mind danced and tiptoed into the battle zone. Thoughts of needing to transition and reinvent. Thoughts of leaving my job. Haven’t I done this too many times before? Not prepared to enter survival mode. Not ready say goodbye to my life on the Island, yet I searched for back up, my mind was disassociating. I realized with trepidation, that if I crossed that line, that in fact is what will happen. My week’s thoughts spanned from “whatever happens is what is meant to be.” Ie. “Maybe life on the island is not where I am suppose to be” to acknowledging the power of my mind. That my mind is the conductor here if it so chooses to be.
SO while I have my ticket in hand for the train that is departing, the destination: A new book, a new path- an artistic life perhaps? I sit and know I can instead enter a new chapter. Adapt my life now for it offers all I want. “
I am at work. Overwhelmed.
I sat here searching for tears- forcing them. I went outside. As the rain poured, I stood with my skinny Capri cigarette watching the rain. Moments before thinking about how I wanted to run, run away, and how an actual run would have to suffice. The rain now inhibiting that plan.
I wanted to fall, melt onto the pavement. I had this feeling yesterday. Before another binge. Was tonight destined to be the same?
Watching myself from the outside, hearing other’s advice should I choose to share. How easy it should be to overcome this . . Telling myself I always do. But, yet these moments exist. I am overwhelmed. I think about going home and falling into a sleep, an escape. Killing the possibility of making the 1am flight to New York to make it for Matt’s proposed sailing trip tomorrow. Feeling horrible. Thinking about Anya’s email, the guilt. Thinking about Perfect’s dad and how I offered to help. And have failed to. THinking about the many people waiting on things from me- emails, phone calls, visits, time . . and realizing how I procrastinate. How I am frozen in time . . . Realizing what the proper action is and the simplicity of it.
Prioritize. Smile. Enjoy the moments. The days will go on. You will enjoy the island this weekend. Don’t add extra stress about needing to return to New York. I realize that my hesitance, my internal stresses were heightened when I thought about how I would make Matt feel. The guilt.
And thence came the moment . . . the realization of my hold-up, a common thread linking so many of my problems. It’s the “WANT”. I want to do more than my capacity allows. I want to be everything to everyone. I hide and punish myself when I am not. To the outside world, I am busy or flaky. Internally, I am in prison, suffering for my lack of production. When two friends both want to do something conflicting, I do nothing. I do nothing when I think I may hurt someone and I end up hurting them more. Why? Where does this stem from? . . . It’s amazing how my capacity for certain stresses has no limit. While others, mostly when they affect other’s emotions, are paralyzing.
Hmmmm . . .