July 25, 2007
I've spent years now (years!) trying to turn it all around, somehow, some way.
Happiness is so often just about the way you look at a thing, the way you frame the circumstances of your own life. Someone can have a fabulous list on paper and still be terribly unhappy because, well, unhappiness is just as unique and personal as desire or tastebuds or whether or not you're a light sleeper.
I am a light sleeper.
Somtimes I think what I need a white space, some clean, unlined paper in my life, a vacation maybe. There is this day-to-day life we all live and then there is another life we live on lay-away, that good life we'll get to one day in the future.
I hate that I still do lay-away on my happiness. (I bought this amazing handbag that I wanted so badly, I'd never owned anything so perfectly decadent and pretty before, and I carried it for a while every day and then something old and deeply rooted inside me took over and I swapped it out for the cheap Target handbag I always carry and that expensive purse I love so much is sitting inside its dustcover on the top shelf of my closet.) Waiting until... when?
Living life on lay-away. I have six vacation days and can't take a one because I know October is coming and it will be busy. I have a good life coming, I just know it, hold on until it gets here.
Then I know the truth. I want to escape wholly, just start driving and end up somewhere and not speak to a soul along the way. A clean, white space to breathe in. Get a sound night's sleep. I cannot remember the last time I slept soundly. Studies say that happiness can be measured by your closeness with others and I know this is an area of grave concern, I have no close relationships at all.
The conflagration of events just happened in July, a conspiracy, really, timed to mire me so deeply in despair that even a casserole could not fix it. Multitudes of casseroles. There was simply nothing to be done. Just wait it out.
There is a strangling sort of unhappiness that can ash over you when you're in the shower and you place your cheek against the cold tile wall and just cry, the only place you can be sure it's all washed away and the neighbors can't hear, can't differentiate from the sound of water and the heaving sound of crying.
Comments closed today.
Posted by laurie at July 25, 2007 3:42 PM