somewhere between stunned and ecstatically happy and at peace and hopeful
There lies me. Somewhere between stunned, ecstatically happy, at peace and hopeful. Occasionally, but very rarely, frightened. Generally, grounded. Every so often chasing after thrill and electric and a wild good time. (Although, I clearly don’t have the speed or the necessary eye-hand coordination, because I haven’t yet caught any of that, or maybe I’m not trying hard enough or maybe I need to sit and wait for the chase to come to me.) They do still come, don’t they? The thrills? Excitement and wild good times?
I’m feeling all of this after a long and drawn out journey into the deepest darkest chambers of divorce court. The draconian deconstruction of anything decent that left me hard-pressed to even recall the initial devastation orchestrated by a wounded and broken now insignificant other. Brutal felt like the norm for me to strive for because my life was permitted to be worse than brutal. Traumatizing on a good day. And maybe, with my sadistically shaded Foster Grants reflecting outward today, I’m seeing trauma and brutality as necessary landmarks to ensure my journey never passes this way again.
And yet…..I never keep the Foster Grants on very long. Or a watch. Or any accessories. They are cumbersome and distracting and cause me to fidget and twist and touch. I might twirl or spin or have a sudden urge to sing out and suddenly the Foster Grants are airbourne and someone loses an eye because I got excited momentarily. Maybe I’m somewhere between stunned and ecstatically happy and at peace and hopeful and twirly with anticipation.
I’m not really sure if I’ll be able to catch all the tell-tale signs of impending doom and gloom and dark and evil. Even with eyes wide open and a zoom lens. I have unknowingly been trying to sneak up to catch it or do ninja kicks at the slightest provocations. And maybe the provocations have been nothing more than the wind. I have been slightly poised at attack mode and let's just say it’s a good thing I don’t bare arms. I think people with guns have a bigger tendency to kill people than guns not killing people or people killing people or whatever the NRA slogan is or was. I don’t recall lines from movies, ever, with the exception of “Ape Kill Ape” from my child-eyed viewing of Planet of the Apes at the DeLuxe Movie Theater or Theatre, as I prefer, circa 1970 or some such year. And I have been acting slightly apeish and a little highly-alerted and aiming for slight provocations. I think this is closely related to the trauma and brutality of the divorce process I just barely survived, but what do I know? So maybe I am between stunned and ecstatically happy and at peace and hopeful and twirly with anticipation and a tad highly-alerted.
I am feeling all this and hopeful for a thrill and a wild good time with the sense that I will also protect myself from making the same mistakes. I have this tendency to overlook BIG GLARING PROBLEMS and twirl around and spin and add glitter and frosting and feathers and fairy-tales onto lipstick wearing pigs or maybe simply mortal men. I want to find calm and quiet and worry less about quantifying problems and qualifying fairy-tale making.
Meanwhile, I am discovering myself and becoming more accepting of these charming little erratic and twitchy, ninja-kicking episodic moments of joy and exhuberance that occur between the mundane and mortal meanderings of a mother, earth bound and early-birdish. A teacher, passionate and excited about discovery and wonder. A woman, powerful and nurturing, glory-bound and girlish. I leave a trail of buttons and beads and glitter and spark and snap and devil may care and big abundant love.
But my God if I can see the light that shines from you, please have an extra pair of Foster Grants on hand and maybe head-gear because I am probably going to twirl and spin and jump for joy. Buckle up. Be ready. I am less and less stunned and ecstatically happy and at peace and hopeful and twirly with anticipation and a tad highly-alerted and all full of abundant love and glitter and spark and challenge and warm sugary baked good magic. That would be me plus more. I have arrived. But I will continue to adjust and reflect and improve-upon and account for......
I’m Really Rosy? Huh, I might just be….