Saturday, January 13, 2007

Crash landing

Part of me is a sick, twisted Pollyanna who simply has to find the good in everything. That attribute is both one of my strengths and most annoying qualities. It makes me able to ride some pretty rough roads and still have some enthusiasm for the rest of the drive. It can also feed my tendency to live in my head and escape from reality.

I really don't need to worry about the latter aspect of looking for the best in everything today. Pollyanna has been grounded, sent to the darkest corner of the basement, and I'm just overwhelmed. With everything that's hit lately, illnesses, the car troubles, the realization of the hopelessness of my marriage and my stupidity for trying to make it last as long as I did, and some other stuff that's just not appropriate for a blog, I've been handling one detail at a time. Today, I took a look at the bigger picture and just broke.

I sat down and cried, harsh, ragged, body shaking sobs that eventually tapered down to slow, silent tears. I sat silent and still. I couldn't turn off the drumbeat in my head that's saying I've completely screwed up my life, and I'm too old to make any real improvements. I'm not proud of this. I hate crying. It's ugly. It's embarrassing. It feels like something I can't control. It feels like a weakness, and yet I feel like I'm one of life's appointed criers, stuck with a leaky face that responds too easily to beauty and pain. Every now and then, a tear will still come out, and the self-disgust begins anew.

Then I got up and took my Prozac. That's all the fight I have in me today, but it's a starting place. The next step is a request to my friends. If you pray, say one for me. If you channel your energy out into the universe, send some positive waves my direction. If you hold fond thoughts and best wishes, include me. If you light candles with positive intentions, light a flame for me.

In my beliefs, we are all one in God, inter-related in ways we cannot understand. My little part of this great unity is sagging badly today. Part of faith is knowing that it will rise again, and I appreciate your part in the"lift."

9 Comments:

Blogger mike said...

You're never to old to make improvements to your life. One step at a time. Even small changes add up in the long run. Best of luck!

January 13, 2007 6:54 PM  
Anonymous Laura said...

Oh Cyn.. You're in my kindest thoughts. ::::hugs::::

January 13, 2007 7:00 PM  
Blogger Red said...

Cyn,
You are in my thoughts..small steps, one at a time will cover great distances.

January 13, 2007 9:31 PM  
Blogger more cows than people said...

cynthia, i am so sorry you are hurting so profoundly right now. i found myself thinking "Its too bad the tears trigger self-loathing, and are not a cleansing release." but then i realized that when i am in similar space to that which you describe, the crying cycle is a lot like that, the tears are cleansing, but the thoughts in my head are... well, you know, you've described it well. thank you for teaching me something by so honestly sharing your sorrow and struggle.

and as i lead a community in worship today i will be especially mindful of you. all shall be well, truly, all shall be well.

January 14, 2007 7:17 AM  
Blogger Gannet Girl said...

Don't think that I haven't already tried several times this morning to send you love and support. Blogger is recalcitrant.

Go and google Mary Oliver + Summer Day if you haven't memorized it already. Your present for today.

January 14, 2007 11:57 AM  
Anonymous Barbara said...

Dear Cynthia is breaks my heart to see you feeling so sad and low! I know it's no fun being a slobbering, crying mess. But sometimes a good all out cry can cleanse the soul and help us to empty out ourselves and our hurts so God can fill us anew. Know you are in my prayers!

January 14, 2007 3:49 PM  
Blogger Theresa Williams said...

Crying is good for you. Go ahead and cry. Do you know the poem by May Sarton called "August Third"?

These days
Lifting myself up
Like a heavy weight,
Old camel getting to her knees,
I think of my mother
And the inexhaustible flame
That kept her alive
Until she died.

She knew all about fatigue
And how one pushes it aside
For staking up the lilies
Early in the morning,
The way one pushes it aside
For a friend in need,
For a hungry cat.

Mother, be with me.
Today on your birthday
I am older than you were
When you died
Thirty-five years ago.
Thinking of you
The old camel gets to her knees,
Stands up,
Moves forward slowly
Into the new day.

If you taught me one thing
It was never to fail life.

January 14, 2007 6:15 PM  
Blogger sunflowerkat119 said...

I hope that knowing I am thinking of you will help to lighten the load. I also hate to succomb to sobbing...but it's good for you to release all the emotion that's being held back.

love and prayers.....

January 14, 2007 9:19 PM  
Blogger Magdalene6127 said...

(((((Cynthia)))))

Mags, who's been right there.

January 15, 2007 6:44 PM  

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