Tag: musings

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Part 1: Bravery in the bathtub

It was one of those nights.

I ended up on the hardwood floor, alone, half-dressed, curled into a heaving pastry and bawling my eyes out like the little girl I once was. Admittedly, I haven’t had one of these “pity parties” for a while, only tallying up to a few per year in my 30s. They always seem to come after a tornado of tasks and obligations, only after I slow down and come to a stop. It’s like my shadow in all of its “weight of the worldliness” catches up to me and bowls me down like a swift slap to my backside. But like everything else I experience, I always find away to laugh about it later—if I mention it at all.

Let me say, this isn’t meant to demean or to devalue anyone’s experience. The human condition is ripe with reasons to bun-up and break down—internally, externally, a twist cone of both. There is no shame in any of it and I try not to judge. I’ve had my share of Sarah McLachlan moments, you know? I was dramatic as hell in high school, so many emotions. Anyway…

I don’t let myself cry now. I change lanes in my brain before the inner monologue gets a chance to break me. And before you lecture me, I know the spiel. Crying is a release or whatever. I’ve heard this my whole life—a trope that has never manifested itself into my reality. Crying helps some people, but not me. But that’s another post for another day.

This time, post-cinnamon-roll, I thought maybe I could be ballsy enough to write about it. It’s not that I haven’t before. As trite as it sounds, writing has been a coping mechanism of mine since I can remember. Writing is how I’ve wrangled and untangled the many thoughts and ideas that swirl inside of my brain at light speed. Hell, I’ve got a couple of degrees in writing. I have a poetry chapbook that still means the world to me… but this wasn’t a topic I have written about, not really. And though I have never stopped writing, I have stopped sharing my writing. Not very “academic” of me, huh? (I can see that glaring time gap on my CV now. Years.)

But ok, this time, could I uncurl from my floor and write about my experiences? Could I stop self-editing my words into smoke? Could I follow through a WordPress post without simply hitting the “save draft” button and boogying on out of there (never to return)? Maybe. But I’d have to be quick about it.

So I filled a bath with Epsom salt, soft smelling bubbles and way-too-hot water and hopped in. Oh yeah, candles too. I grabbed my iPhone, opened the WordPress app… and here I am, raisining and fingertyping in the one place that doesn’t cause me pain: the bathtub. 

It’s time to get out now and I haven’t even begun to share anything, but I know if I hit “save draft,” I won’t be coming back. So I’m publishing. Without too much editing, without photos, without links or carefully inserted post-humor. I’m not going to attempt to make light of this anymore. And I’m going to share it. Because this is the only way I know for sure that I will be held accountable. My OCD is the only thing more powerful than my ADHD. No joke.

Until next post…

mt

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A little melodramatic of a muse…

So I guess the bottom line is this. Being single has it’s perks, right? Freedoms and sense of individuality, which honestly I kept through most of my relationships. [Best of both worlds, I guess.]

But I’ve tired very quickly of the generalizations/imposed beliefs of others on the matter:

1. “Yay! No, this is awesome. You’re free to explore and be free and meet people and you need to look at this as a great thing! Go have fun and party it up!”

2. “So… you are the type of girl who constantly needs to be in a relationship?”

Neither of these are very true for me. It is complex, but simple. And maybe it’s because the cold is closing in on us, the holidays and all… but it’s on nights like this that I’m driving home from a long day—both working at the office and teaching—to absolutely nothing and no one, that I think: “Why?” What am I necessarily doing all of it for? I mean, I was never the type to buy the notion that we “exist because we exist”: a means as well as an end.

I struggle, both with the logistics of life (as we all do, at times) and my own brain (which is a much more personal kind of conflict) on a daily basis. And at times, it’s exhausting and I almost need a reason to push.

Now don’t get your panties in a bunch. I realize this seems a little melodramatic, and maybe for some, it is; however, this is very real to me, as this was an issue long before now (family and such.) I guess it’s just that at 27, while young, I still feel as if I should have found my reason by now.

And this was quite the spillage of guts, but the point? For you people. Please don’t ever feel unnecessary. And also, do not take for granted all the things that you have and that hold you up. Maybe you don’t think you “need it”—maybe you don’t. Either way, I know that alone can be exhilarating for many reasons, but someday you might need a person, maybe even one you never thought you would. So appreciate now.

It’s so easy to realize that we all occupy our own sort of hell, at times. But it’s just as easy to skip over, too. Human compassion, empathy, even opening oneself to embrace that type of vulnerability—this is living, man. And there is no simple lesson in this. But a complex one: Love. Love hard. Love with all of your guts.

I’m not trying to be pessimistic here, but unconditional love isn’t something you find often. Trust me on this one. Some peeps may be hard to love, give you more problems than might seem worth it—but don’t just give up.

Don’t give up on people, I guess. Bottom line. There. (:

Night musings. Don’t mind me.
Feeling a bit bummed. Damn season!
A snap may help it…

mt