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….
