It seems
like after the (secular) New Year things got better, somehow easier. My resolution was to “enjoy the ride, worry
less about the scenery” and although I forgot it more often than I remembered
it, it still popped up in my mind from time to time, bringing a sense of ease
and of “Chill out, you got this.” But I
spent a lot of time – a ton of time, really, dating and mating. I threw the bright candle of my being into
each new lover, each time with a sense of release, and relief. And hope.
I had –
have now, this is now – a sense of imbalance, but it’s more mental than
visceral, and so hard to do something about.
I *know* I need to sleep better, exercise more, make more money. I *think* I’m too old to spend this much time
chasing romantic rainbows. It would make
so much more *sense* to focus on me and on mine, and let the love chips fall
where they may. But in these insomniac
nights, and the warm solitary mornings in bed, and the stressful or boring days
at work, and… well, you get the idea: it’s hard to maintain that logical discipline. I’ve taken to leaving my phone in the car so
I won’t check email, won’t check dating sites, will focus more on what I’m
supposed to be doing. But then half the
time I go and fetch it anyways. This era reminds
me a bit of those times before I quit smoking.
I knew I had to make a change, but I wasn’t yet inspired to get
there. What will the change be? How will it come? When will it get here?
And yet,
despite or in addition to this, I feel OK.
Ok with a capital O, actually.
Some of it is always having someone around to love, some of it is that
it’s been over a year since my life blew up.
Long enough to make a new life and dig my heels into it. Most days I’m a quirky, Miriam-esque mix of
joyous, curious, horny, exhausted, entertained, loving, and longing. Most days, or many days, I really do enjoy
the ride.
