I am consistent with one thing in life. Profoundly consistent with...
being profoundly inconsistent.
One day is doable. It feels full of promise and my feet stay stuck on the ground with the greatest of ease. It feels so doable in fact that i... (drumroll) make a plan for the next day! (novel concept i know)
Twenty-four hours later (or some random number of days in between), my feet hit the floor after a less than restful slumber, and boom! Doable life is no longer. Creeping
Just making it through the day well enough to pick up a few things strewn about at home, help boys with whatnots, maybe brush my hair, just maybe.
This non-doable day is when my heart aches for pen and paper, for endless hours to pour thoughts out onto pages, eschewing the computer screen- seeing it as inhibiting...something... creeping...
but then not doing anything.
Because just maneuvering takes all the energy allocated to the day.
until sleep comes... and i drift...
back into the land of possibility!
Waking brings promise, the sun seems to be squeezing out vitamin D all over me with no risk of harmful rays, no way!
I feel optimistic with hope about returning to that list again, though i feel so optimistic i add to the list with more grand goals and inner-cheerleader voices chanting
I haven't made sense yet of this great swinging pendulum ride i seem to be genetically or biochemically or well who knows, seat belted to.
I know the pendulum swings far less than it used to. Far less than when i played engineer to my own nightmarish ride. (cocktail of chemicals aforementioned)
One thing is constant though in all this manic mess. I've learned (am learning) to accept the ebbbbbs
the ebbs and flows
of the highs and the lows.
I've learned how to lean into and learn from the days i feel energy, even synergy, learning things i never thought i'd learn
and then lay back into, not resent the, slow brain days... when my hand aches for pencil or guitar pick and can't even go near a computer keyboard.
I used to resent this flow of one extreme to another, that seemed so far out of my control, that seemed incongruous with the life i was 'supposed to' lead being a mama, a whatever and a whathaveyou.
But this flow has become a steady theme, as unsteady as it seems.
Why make such a paradoxical claim? For one, i think moods, chemical imbalance, chemical balance, optimism, realism, what-have-you-isms are all often misunderstood. I think we spend a plethora of time in our lives trying not to feel what we feel. Let me rephrase that. I spent a plethora of time in my life trying not to feel what i felt, and then calling the inability to dictate those feelings terribly unforgivable. So with this inner quandary rumbling around inside i decided at some point to medicate. In whatever ways i knew how. To avoid running into myself around each unpredictable bend.
The short of it is this, sometimes i think it is quite good to face the super duper flawed-ness or pained place within us and say, ok, you can come out now. I'm not ashamed of you anymore. Even if you are super strange or
are given a name like
mental illness or some other such reality
and some people get squeamish because they don't
now i understand much more about how each precious, priceless, unique human being is a being... is being
exactly who we are supposed to be, mess or success, and all.
each mess or success
a unique process
never the same as someone before or someone after
or the one you live with or grew up with.
each mess and/or success a lesson