bassplayerchic

When I consciously made the idea of “carpe diem” a goal, I envisioned it fulfilled when I could consistently get out of bed in the morning and conquer shyness and depression. Talk to people on the elevators, in my classes. Not stress over smaller things, live in love and grace. At that time, it was a challenge, but not a hard prospect.

These last few weeks have been some of the most painful of my life. So much that I stopped getting out of bed, not only in the morning, but ever. I stopped looking at people and started watching the sidewalk, forget talking or smiling. I even stopped eating for awhile. The smallest things – a bad dream, an unfamiliar noise, walking to class, even the prospect of having to leave my room – terrified me. I could run – like I did a couple weeks ago, when I found that run down hotel – but the thing about running is that you eventually have to come back.

I’m the kind of person that’s good in crisis situations. Something traumatic happens, my emotions pretty much shut off and I do whatever it is I need to do, no problem. The problem comes afterward, when life is supposed to return to normal and I have to come back and deal with the emotions I refused to feel, and then soon move on without them.

So, my dilemma at the moment is to continue living. No, I’m not in the least suicidal, I don’t mean that at all. I mean having the courage to drag my butt out of bed in the morning. To get dressed, make coffee, go to class, decide where I’m living this summer and if I like my eggs scrambled or poached. To continue making a life for myself out here in the unprotected wasteland they call Nebraska. I thought I was pretty much in the clear: after everything, I’d gone through the initial shock, run away, come back, ran away again, dealt with the hurt and betrayl, dealt with the sheer numbing pain of it all. But the anger. The anger just won’t go away. I know I have a right to be angry, but when does healthy anger turn to bitterness and rage? I’m worried I’m already there – I can feel my heart closing up, refusing to let anyone see beyond the exterior of me. Even the people I trust most aren’t allowed to see how I really feel anymore… So obviously, healing from something like this takes a bit longer than the week I alloted for it.

But life goes on and I have to finish healing while continuing to build a life here. So yesterday, living meant playing guitar hero for three hours with five people I hadn’t met before, even if I didn’t really speak to them. Today, it meant taking a shower and going to church. Making that phone call and accepting that job. Tomorrow, it’s going to mean getting up, making coffee over disregarded nightmares and deciding on making my past life work, or moving to a different hall and starting over with only 7 weeks to go. The next day, living will mean going to class and allowing myself to engage in the material. The day after, living will mean making the hardest phone call I’ve ever endeavored to make in my life, and doing so with courage and peace.

So it’s baby steps, back to a life of confidence and reality. But baby steps are always the precursors of really big life change… right?

So, last night, after the most stressful, painful week of my life, I got a bit angry and decided I needed to leave the city. I do this a lot – take off and drive for an hour or so, sleep in my car at a truck stop for a little while, come back in the morning. Last night, however, I decided I would get a hotel. So I did. 2 AM, I checked into the last open king-size suite. I went to Walmart, took a shower, watched “Kingdom of Heaven” on cable. It was the most freeing thing I have ever done. I got up this morning, trotted into the office to check out and ended up chatting with an old Arabic man who chuckled like Gandalf. A housekeeper found my pillow left in my room and called me “sweet dear.” (I’ve also resolved to always be nice to housekeepers and hotel desk clerks now!)
When I finally left, I had regained something I lost months ago: my smile. Not just the ordinary, things are good smile. The “my cheeks are sore from grinning about nothing” kind of smile. All day long I’ve just been walking down the street or sitting in a drive-thru waiting for food and I’d just start giggling. My joy is back! My joy is back! I just want to shout it from the rooftops. Maybe now life can go back to normal. No more segmenting, no more overwhelming stress, no more depression. Now that’s something to be excited about.

In my quest to simplify and reorganize my life and heart, I was struck by lightnight (well, almost) and realized that my anthem of “I’ll go where You send me,” meant I might not get to see all 50 states. So the map on the wall documenting the places I had been and yet to be came down, along with the goal.
I think it’s better this way.