Kitchen Martyr: Day 14

Strange days back.  Things I thought would happen didn’t, tasks surprised me with their incredibly efficient incisions into my spirit.  The pile-on piled on.  I endured.

Small thing:  something nobody save the therapist will be all that delighted in: I fought an irrational thought and won today.   Letting yourself recall the advice you intended to take before you stopped letting yourself absorb external stimuli…helpful, you know?  Oh, I don’t have to blow off the idea that I drive this way because I’ve got these thoughts that don’t make any actual sense.  I can let the reality sink in and not be overcome and panicked.  I can deal just a little bit.  Even if I don’t make the turn and take that road today, I can push a little bit.

And, I thought about my friends and their freedom and willingness to drive.  How we’re such similar people in so many regards and while they may – or may not – be weighed down with psychic pain that lives somewhere else in their heads…they find joy in driving.  They’re not in constant, irrational fear.  So with them in mind, with the peace of the weekend running through me, I made the turn and I saved 20 minutes of driving into the Hinterlands for the sole purpose of avoiding a feeling that I didn’t actually have when I took that road today.

So that was a good thing.

I also – I know you can’t possibly know this because I haven’t properly said it here – but I’m alone this week.  Alone with the cats and my cookery and my TV shows.  And it’s so relaxing and marvelous to experience a deeper quiet of the soul.  To not feel like you’re on stage in any way whatsoever.   It drives a desire to be domestic, to be organized, to be still and whole.  I hope I get to move some of that desire into actual housework tomorrow.

More than that, I suppose I need to talk about l’affaires du coeur.  Which is to say the things that used to thrill me about long-distance relationships (or two people being in psychic orbit without any plans about it) now…they wear me down a bit.  The excitement of being emotionally servile…servile is not the word, but it’s not not the word.  It’s sort of the stage past the courting when everyone’s gotten comfortable and in that comfort, they’ve decided to open the cupboards and let the unmentionables get mentioned.  It’s hard to feel the romantic whirlwind when, instead, with top billing with have a very modern take on the whole 2 people thing.  You can get dark with me, I don’t mind, but I need to not feel like we’re only ever two to three sentences away from the things that you like and we’re a whole Jane Austen novel away from my fantasies.

I don’t know how I feel about the place we are now.  I don’t know how I’ll feel at the end of the week.  What the connection means.  But it’s on my mind.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.