Peeling off the layers
The local church sign time, temperature and announcement sign read 104 degrees at 5:30 tonight. The Weather Channel won't back that up, but my degree of wiltedness will. In trying to keep up the good attitude I was given this morning, I'm grateful tonight that the new work project I picked up today only has three or four easily identifiable problems and though the car wanted to overheat, it stopped just shy of me having to turn the heat on to keep the engine from self-destructing.
The womanchild wasn't able to find a job this summer, and most of her friends are out of town. That means I'm the most convenient receptacle for her boredom and frustration. I treasure that she and I can actually talk, but tonight, I'm very aware of the other edge of this particular blessing. I do feel for her being stuck at home all day, but damn, I'd love to come home to a little contentment sometime.
I had another organized, efficient, productive day where I finished almost everything I set out to do. After five in a row, I do feel some bit of accomplishment, and I can tell things are definitely getting better, because I'm wanting more than just getting functionally through the day.
What I really want is water, lots of clear, cool water pouring over me. Not from a cold shower, but a waterfall, preferably one hidden away in the mountains and discovered by me and the hunky, faceless dream man who could inspire me to turn the writing to erotica. Now, that is an idea. It would definitely be something different, not to mention how it would utilize those descriptive abilities of mine that have been dormant for some time now. It's been a long time since I shocked anybody, and my inner bad girl could definitely use a safe place to come out and play.
That brings up another side note about depression. It brings out the overly good part of me, the prissy, every hair in place, will wear the dress code prescribed pantyhose in hot weather, must do everything right or catastrophe lurks part of me. I'm not too fond of that me. She lacks boldness, sass, whimsy and surprise. All of those are too damn important to sacrifice, and there's too much inside of me to be just so ... boring. When I'm in the worst part of depression, I crave peace, but I forget that peace is neither bland nor boring. It's in peace that I find laughter. It's in peace that I can not only observe, but participate in and savor life around me. Conflict, whether in- or external, doesn't allow that freedom. Neither does energy and clarity sucking sadness.
When I come home in the evenings, heels, hose, skirt and jacket come off quickly. I liberate myself for comfort and play. I get down to what is essential. Tonight, I mentally had to do the same thing, and I found a part of me that I really like.
freedom
peace
rediscovery
The womanchild wasn't able to find a job this summer, and most of her friends are out of town. That means I'm the most convenient receptacle for her boredom and frustration. I treasure that she and I can actually talk, but tonight, I'm very aware of the other edge of this particular blessing. I do feel for her being stuck at home all day, but damn, I'd love to come home to a little contentment sometime.
I had another organized, efficient, productive day where I finished almost everything I set out to do. After five in a row, I do feel some bit of accomplishment, and I can tell things are definitely getting better, because I'm wanting more than just getting functionally through the day.
What I really want is water, lots of clear, cool water pouring over me. Not from a cold shower, but a waterfall, preferably one hidden away in the mountains and discovered by me and the hunky, faceless dream man who could inspire me to turn the writing to erotica. Now, that is an idea. It would definitely be something different, not to mention how it would utilize those descriptive abilities of mine that have been dormant for some time now. It's been a long time since I shocked anybody, and my inner bad girl could definitely use a safe place to come out and play.
That brings up another side note about depression. It brings out the overly good part of me, the prissy, every hair in place, will wear the dress code prescribed pantyhose in hot weather, must do everything right or catastrophe lurks part of me. I'm not too fond of that me. She lacks boldness, sass, whimsy and surprise. All of those are too damn important to sacrifice, and there's too much inside of me to be just so ... boring. When I'm in the worst part of depression, I crave peace, but I forget that peace is neither bland nor boring. It's in peace that I find laughter. It's in peace that I can not only observe, but participate in and savor life around me. Conflict, whether in- or external, doesn't allow that freedom. Neither does energy and clarity sucking sadness.
When I come home in the evenings, heels, hose, skirt and jacket come off quickly. I liberate myself for comfort and play. I get down to what is essential. Tonight, I mentally had to do the same thing, and I found a part of me that I really like.
freedom
peace
rediscovery
posted by Cynthia at
8:48 PM
4 Comments:
I do enjoy those times when you see yourself the way we all see you, Ms. Sassy. Hot, huh? I'd offer you dip in my pool, but I see you don't have your suit...
104 degrees? Bleah! I don't think I'd be wearing any pantyhose under those conditions. Especially not in the south, where the humidity is usually right up there with the air temperature.
You do sound some better. I'm glad...
Just keep pluggin. It's an awful slog, but EVENTUALLY, with some help, I'm confident that you can make it.
You know my email if you wanna chat.
Ah, Paul is incorrigible as ever! (And that's a good thing). "I liberate myself for comfort and play"...I like that very much.
Judi
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