So, I was going to write more frequently, and that didn’t happen. Sorry… Here’s what’s going on in my head these days.
I’m really trying hard not to write self-pitying narratives (or angry narratives, or whatever construct comes up) about my life right now. With everything that went down in 2013 – early 2014, I created a massive narrative and it calcified, gained weight, and pressed me pretty much flat for a bit. And I was getting tired of carrying it around, to be frank… it was a lot to support.
So I’m trying to be more present in the moment, and whenever I find myself building a story about my life — and that’s really what WP was about, for me, a place to tell these stories — I stop myself and try to release whatever emotional damage I’m doing to myself at that moment. I try to *not* build another intricate but heavy flying buttress onto the cathedral of All That Shit That Was Last Year. And it seems to be working.
I’m lighter, less burdened. Less unwieldy. Sleep comes more easily, because my brain isn’t running as many circles around itself and its embedded despair. I’m more able to enjoy small moments of serendipity. All of this is great. However… I’ve always been a small-time raconteur, the Girl With The Story. And now, I’m just the girl floating down the river.
No story. Just me, existing.
It’s a little strange, to be honest. I’m not sure I was meant to be quite this Zen. I may have to find a happy medium. — On the other hand, what was this year about if not redefining myself? (You can’t see me right now, but I’m striking a Freudian pose and stroking my non-existent goatee. It’s attractive. snicker)
So I may need to figure out what to do as people ask me “how was your weekend?” and, instead of launching into a story about someone’s bra becoming a boomerang during a wedding ceremony, I simply say, “Fine” and smile at them happily… then awkward silence ensues. lol Oops. Sorry. I was supposed to do my trick there, wasn’t I? 😀 Well, why don’t you tell me a story? I’m all ears. (and Freudian goatee. I may have to get one, because seriously people. I love having an imaginary one. And the faux German accent is tits. Tits, I tell you.)