Stormy night

Spring has arrived, and as they say, April showers have begun to buffet the Midwest. It is thundering now, and I can hear the sudden downpour.  It is a time of contemplation.  It is a time of meditation and purging and cleansing…

It is time to write again.

It struck me that I haven’t written in months, yet my mind has been many places worth writing about.  Physically, even, I’ve been many places. My life as a guest speaker in the aquarium club circuit has taken off, and so I’ve been traveling. Not to terribly exotic places, yet, but even engagements around the state have me on the go enough to be exhausted.  So much to see and to do; always. I’m…terribly exhausted, in general.  On top of my usual mental woes, I’ve discovered a nasty OCD habit worsening.  Now, I look at my food wistfully, as if it weren’t actually in front of me and ready to consume. As if it were in the pages of some 50’s cookbook I scanned once upon a time. There’s this mental block, and I struggle to get around it to stay alive at times.  Which is highly detrimental. I require my energy reserves now more than ever.  The brain can be a fickle thing.

It strikes me in my quest for human contact, a particular thought this evening: I am a stubborn woman.  I am incredibly stubborn.  I know I should look after my basic needs above all else, yet here I am, all ambitious and junk.  Choking on an oreo cookie, because the nerves have gotten to me. I feel like the walls are closing in and I’m running on fumes, at times.  At other times, I feel so happy and accomplished and fulfilled.  That is not now.  Right now, like any other stormy night, I am lonely.  I’ve a trusty cat companion, who provides sweet kisses and not-so-sweet mischief.  But I’m stubborn, and stubborn women rarely submit to men.  It’s a shame, too.  Because I really thought I liked men.  It is a manly thing to be dominant, and I refuse to submit to even my own physical limitations.  So why would I submit for a lover??  I won’t, though nature almost dictates I must.  Human nature cannot evolve fast enough…Not on this night, and probably not ever.

I ponder what my life will be one day. I never imagined it would be what it is now.  For instance, I never thought such basic things like eating would be a challenge or that I would be on a wait-list for anxiety treatment while simultaneously booking talks and trips.  It may be telling, however, that I often think I wouldn’t be alive if humans weren’t so prone to saving their weak.  I think my body is frail, and my genetics not the best. Though I consider myself weak in many regards, I am not the slightest bit reserved in my convictions.  This is apparent. There was a time I might’ve changed myself for a man, but I didn’t. Now I know I couldn’t.  Though women being strong willed and empowered is encouraged nowadays, it still doesn’t solve a residual dominance men expect to exert. They subconsciously desire dutiful women who look pretty for them and bare children. The reality may be that I scare men off with my convictions and stubbornness without even trying. If that’s the case, I suppose I could imagine more cats in my future….

Stubbornness will be the death of me.

 

 

 

 

Challenging Perspective, Optimism, and the Human Mind

I was having a glorious night to myself, I thought.  I put on some music that made me feel pumped up.  I’m surrounded by all these wonderful things and animals, and I can dance this party all night.  I need no partner and I will tell you repeatedly there is always wonder to be found.  There is also a treacherous pitfall around those wonders.  Because in a split second, I tumbled when my perspective flipped on me.  It’s so strange to see this take place, as you sit and in mere moments the shade and tint to your body scales down and inverts on itself.  I think I just felt the slightest element push me from feeling elated in my solitude to depressed in my loneliness.  It was the fastest shift, like a chameleon blending to it’s surroundings.  I was fed a new perspective without realizing; I told myself in someone else’s words that I was ignorant to parade around my home in happiness for my freedom.  I felt sudden loss as to why I could possibly accept anything less than the company of friends and other humans on a Friday night.  Why am I like this?  What is wrong with you, Heather?

This is an absurd transition, no doubt, but one that compels me to write because I analyze it in real time.  Despite knowing why I’m feeling or thinking these things, it doesn’t stop me from doing it.  What does this knowledge do but trample on my self-esteem and well-being?  So strange.  I find it so strange that one can be a dual optimist and pessimist.  I change as the moment suits, but this did not suit me.  Perhaps it suited my survival.  Perhaps I’m built to care what others think or that others are not with me.  I can scarcely think of any other explanation at this hour.  However, I quickly shut off the music and set myself to brood.  Maybe it’s hormones, but something trashed my mood.

What is perhaps worse about the human mind here, or more specifically my mind, is that I know it is all preventable grief.  I know it is my actions that put me here, unhappily.  My cat begins to chatter.  He wants me to get over it and give him attention, no doubt.  And why don’t I?  Why don’t I stop being ridiculous and anti-social.  There is not a person on the planet who wouldn’t care to be in my company if I understood the wants and needs of someone not plagued in thought.  I can be a real downer if I allow it, and I can see from all perspectives at once; his, hers, and mine.  Perhaps I will turn on  the music again and enjoy the company that is me.  If I could muster it once with glee, it can happen again.  It simply must be.