382: grrrr, arg.

You know how open I am, but it's still sometimes a challenge to write these honest and vulnerable posts.  I am trying to trust that you will read with gentleness rather than judgement.

Ok?

That rat-bastard Anxiety has been rearing its ugly mug lately. I have been managing it ok: spending time with friends, making sure to get lots of creative play in,  exercising to work off the nerves, spending time outside.

 

The beginning of the week was glorious, even though I had this anxiety brewing  in my chest. Blissed out on summery sunshine and  lilac breezes, I was tearing up with joy and hope every other hour.

For example:

Monday, I went to Old Navy  looking for something cute to wear to Quilt Market. That's right, Old Navy. I know Anthropologie is crack for girl designers, but it is way above my pay grade. Maybe someday.

Approaching the checkout counter, I saw that there was only one cashier and several people in line. I decided (as I generally try to do when confronted with such a circumstance) to actively practice patience instead of actively becoming more impatient. It is a choice!

I started dreamily staring out the window at a fluffy pink tree and reminded myself that I was there buying something to wear for a fun event. I  deepened my breathing and realized that I really didn't have anywhere to be and it was fine, however long it took.

Then my eightes-lovin' heart leapt when I heard Oh, L'Amour by Erasure start to play. The combination of the familiar music, feeling  grateful for all the love in my life, overwhelm at the good things unfolding for me---for me!---and  the flowering pinkness of the tree...  ok, ok, and maybe a side order of hormones...well,  my eyes started to fill up with the salt sauce and I felt so happy.

Heart full-to-bursting.

Repeat that kind of spontaneous surge of emotion several more times over the next couple days and you get the picture.

Then it turned.

Joy grabbed the keys and took off without saying a word and I was left with that jerkface Anxiety, tapping its fingers louder and louder.  Suddenly, I was feeling prickly, lonely, out of balance.

Some people would use the phrase off-kilter. My sweetie makes up his own phrases but acts like they're things  everyone says. ( I may have mentioned this before.) Instead of saying off-kilter he inexplicably says out of keister. I swear to god. 

So, I was already, ahem, out of keister when someone asked me how many siblings I have. I stammered and stumbled , taken by surprise.

"Uh, um...Well, I had three.... but now I have two."

No one has asked me that, I guess, in the last year or so. And since I was already in a state of stress and sadness, it kinda freaked me. Normally, I would have just said "I'm the youngest of four" or something and not given it much thought.

But I was already out of keister.

Michael and I had practically no relationship so when I talk about his death or his absence... I am not coming from a feeling of personal loss, like missing him. It's abstract. I never had him to lose. My heartbreak is over that. The sadness I feel about him, about my family, is what i have always felt--- not just since his suicide.

I have always felt like I was brotherless. I  crave connection with a brother-type who I could look up to, learn from, feel a sense of family with. Someone who might feel protective of me, take an interest in me, be proud of me.

I'm still hoping to find my brother-type.

{{{In case you're wondering about the artwork, I started this a couple of months ago. For some reason I remember that it was the afternoon before the first time I watched Jane Eyre! It fits this post but it wasn't about Michael.}}}

So, friends. There it is. My internal landscape on display.

Why?

-To remind myself that I'm not alone. I don't have to walk around carrying this all by myself. Something about sharing it helps release it. It's not sympathy I want--- it's connection.

-To remind you that you are not alone. We all have our own pain and it's so easy to get lost in it and feel alone. Everyone has their own shit going on regardless of how good it looks from the outside.

I think those are good enough reasons.

xo,

melissa

ps. I am feeling better. Plugging away on my to-do list before Quilt Market and looking forward to arrival of  my book at the end of next week, hopefully. More salt sauce then I'm sure!