As I alluded to in my last post, I’ve got a lot of stuff on my mind. Dad is not feeling well, fiance is experiencing major disappointment at work, wedding planning is completely undermined by everyone else, work is work, sister & co are increasingly trying to estrange themselves for zero reason, and other assorted things I can’t think of right now. I have tons of muscle tension, even in my face. I shudder to think what a twisted freak I must look like before I catch myself.
One of our favorite rituals on a Sunday is to take a ride to Barnes & Noble and blow a paycheck (well, it’s pretty easy with my check, anyway). Fiance and I are creatures of ritual. I like rituals because it helps cement happy feelings. Try something new on a good day, make it a grand day, and so you’ll have it to fall back on when things aren’t going so good. It’s not something you can force though. You just have to create the right conditions. But even on a scheduled bad day, like say for instance you have to go to yearly doctor appointments for something serious, try and find something fun to do after.
Sometimes these bad things can bring a certain poignance to your life. The good moments feel as delicate as the wings of a rare butterfly and just as beautiful. Let it land on your knuckle and don’t disturb it–just enjoy it for that brief moment, and don’t cry until it leaves because you know it may not be alive before the day is ended. We’re all going to die and who knows when? The worse things are that swirl around you, the more peaceful the center if you allow it. When I don’t allow it, I explode with irritation as soon as I walk into work, but other times I find myself smiling almost painfully at other people, as I listen to them tell me this or that about their life, suddenly not hating them but feeling a sort of compassion for their own travails. It all seems so pitiful sometimes, we pilgrims on this hellish earth.
My fiance is a special ed teacher, and recently he was moved from teaching a contained classroom of intellectually disabled and medically handicapped students to pushing into regular classrooms to assist mainstreamed special ed students. This is devastating to him. And to me as well because I feel it as strongly as if it happened to me. At church there is a little girl who appears to have Down syndrome. Her mother holds her hand and brings her to the front pew. The girl looks around, and her mouth is usually somewhat agape. All I can think is how if she were in high school, she would be in his class, and she would die laughing from his jokes and songs, and he would know how to interpret everything she was trying to say.
Nothing is fair.
I don’t want to get too much into it right now, because it will take more articulating and I can’t write it without bawling, but I am very worried about moving away from home when I get married. I’ve lived in this house for over twenty years–there are so many memories, good and bad. We got a beloved cat only a couple of weeks after we moved in because I begged and begged for a dog and then we came home with a cat. I had him from thirteen to almost thirty. He was everything to me. There’s not an inch of the house that doesn’t have something to do with him. My father is also very upset about my leaving. I was fighting with him ostensibly about something else, and my mother said, he just can’t imagine you not being here.
I’ve sort of resigned myself to crying every day. To hell with ugly puffy eyes. That’ll just be my new look, I guess.
So now I’ve broken my personal rule and talked way too many details about family but that’s just how it is right now, and it’s too difficult to be vague about it. Wish I could be more entertaining.