I can’t seem to stop boomeranging back to my bed. I have a giant pimple on my forehead. Dishes are piled in the kitchen. I don’t feel like blogging. And not surprisingly I am indeed still wearing my pyjamas. Some would say “it’s the holidays, who cares, relax!” But if by these standards I am embracing the holiday season, it’s been several months of Christmas (minus the giant pimple, that truly is to blame on holiday sweets).
I honestly have no idea where all of this is going—I mean this blog—yet also more existentially, my life. If that sounds depressing it’s because it is. I’ve always found the post Christmas feels to be my least favourite variety of “the feels”. Today though, I’m not sure if it’s six of this or half a dozen of the other. That is to say has life gotten me down, or is it the dying Christmas tree and dwindling cookie supply? I guess in the end whatever has gotten me down has still gotten me down and no matter the cause, the result is the same. Down.
I have wanted to write in these last months and share my life, but in a perpetual state of down, creativity is certainly OUT for me.
Down and out.
I am not a brooding artist who thrives on the currency of human pain and suffering. There is no way in heck that I would ever be the kind of woman who writes break up songs in a multi platinum selling fashion.
If I were Adele I would be too busy sobbing myself to pieces and binge watching PS I Love You, and looking at flights to Ireland, and maybe eating McDonald’s, and thinking about whether or not I should get bangs. Nobody wants to hear those kind of break up songs. Sadness squashes my creativity, it does not inspire.
I wouldn’t label my emotional state as sad, so much as I would label it “shrug”. Yes shrug. It is a verb, not an adjective. What I feel is very similar to the teenage years of shrugdom. I’m neither here nor there, I heard a lot of stuff at school today but I didn’t care to let any of it effect me, all I want to do is hang out in my room alone.
At this point I still don’t know where any of this is going; I specifically mean the blog this time. I literally just stared off into the distance and scratched my head to give it some thought. Although no thought pulled into the station.
This is not what I wanted for my first blog as a married woman. This is truth though and I think that is really valuable in a world of facades and political correctness and fashion blogs. As far as marriage goes I love being married, I love my husband, I even love sharing my bed and I sleep quite well at night. Quite remarkable considering I don’t share my bed with an average sized human.
Anyways, I wanted my first blog as a married woman to be fun and sweet and encouraging and not at all filled with advice of any kind. But what you get is earnest. You get sincere and intense conviction. (Merry Christmas to all!) I am here, being me, being a little sad, and very sassy, with a lot of opinions and feelings, and what most people would just call Timessa. I got married and I didn’t change—but life did.
As I mentally phrased this next sentence I pondered using the word journey. I don’t like that word right now. It’s gross and cheesy. I don’t care about the journey I care about the place I am right now. The bed ridded, pimple-y, pj wearing, no clean dishes place. Talking about the journey feels like a cop out, like saying “there are quick sand pits ahead but if you survive you get to keep walking for another 50 years, yay!” When one finds them self in an emotional quick sand pit the prospect of surviving so that you can walk another thousand miles isn’t exactly motivation. It’s kind of exhausting actually.
I think I’ve got it. I know where this is going now, if you’re still with me, you deserve a cookie.
Do not focus on the journey.
You do not have to think about what comes next or what came before if you don’t want to. You don’t have to pull out the map and look how far you are from the castle. It is ok, and it is important to just survive the quick sand. If all you can do it breathe and blink for the day, that is literally all you need to do for the day. You can feel sad or mad or hungry or happy, none of it really matters because emotions pass. Just breathe and blink. These are just 2 of the things I’m doing to survive the quicksand. Breathing and blinking. Here are a few more:
I am honest when people ask how I’m doing. I don’t tell every detail to everyone. I don’t tell them things looking for pity or charity. I tell the truth about what I am going through because it is the truth. If you are going through hard things and someone “safe” asks, you have to tell them. Wallowing in the quick sand alone is dangerous.
As a child I had a book called “Ellie is stuck in the Mud”. Somehow Ellie the elephant has gotten stuck in a mud pit. What begins as one jungle friend and a vine, slowly grows to a community of animals pulling Ellie out of her precarious situation.
A person stuck in an emotional quick sand pit is a lot like an elephant. We get heavy and helpless. One person or friend is not going to be able to get us out by themselves. Telling people the truth is taking hold of a vine.
I open my curtains every morning. For me this is a reminder that there are many lives being lived outside of my home. I also love to see if the sun is shining or the rain is falling. Opening the curtains tells me that my world is not the whole world. Opening the curtains is best treated as a metaphor and will look different for everyone. Do something to remind yourself that the world outside your mind and home exist. (Please don’t say that looking at social media is your version of opening the curtains. Because no.)
Lastly (and also semi metaphorical) I almost daily, put on my wedding ring. My wedding ring is one of my most valued and beautiful possessions. I am generally crazy about conserving the things I love. I eat my favourite thing on the plate last. I try not to wear my favorite jeans very often so I can keep them forever. I’ve owned a specific pad of craft paper for 6 years, using it extremely sparingly. I savour everything that can be savoured by being stingy in my use of it. The word stingy is one I don’t like, and it is the perfect description for a behaviour I am trying to defeat. I have begun to use and wear the things I love, every day. Because they bring me joy and I can’t think of a good reason not to enjoy them as often as possible.
Today I opened the curtains, I was honest with someone, and I put on my wedding ring. Now all I have to do is breathe and blink and maybe some other things will get done. I might go get dressed now, or I might not. Today is just today. Tomorrow will be here soon. Life is a journ……oh crap.
Happy New Year.