Ch-ch-changes

August is at an end. It is unseasonably cool, with weather better suited for the end of September than that of August. The heat is bearable. The evenings are cool and comfortable, perfect for lounging outside and stargazing. I feel the early arrival of fall in my bones and I welcome the change of seasons.

After an extended vacation (if you can consider falling ill, being hospitalized, having surgery, and then recovering a vacation), I return to work tomorrow. I’m glad that I will once again be productive and active. I’m also anxious and weary- I still tire so easily and am having problems with pain from the surgery (the location is far from optimal and is constantly irritated). I’m afraid I’ll be clumsy with the work, clumsy with my customers and their issues; that I’ll be inefficient and substandard in my interactions. I’m second guessing myself and my ability to do the job I’m there to do. I’m afraid of being overwhelmed and falling apart. I’ve become so fragile over the past few weeks that I’m more frightened than I like to admit that I might fall apart. Regardless of my anxieties and fears, tomorrow will come and I will show up for work and face all of my concerns.

I am restless. I get this way when the seasons change. Ch-ch-changes. It is a time of change- in nature and in my life. It’s strange how often the two coincide in my life. I am frustrated with myself and with this abnormal fragileness that I find myself experiencing. Little things set me off, hurt me, set me off into tears. I am needy but can’t seem to find the words to let those that I feel I need know that I need them- and then I fall apart when faced with their absence- emotional and physical- at those moments. I know I am cutting off my nose to spite my face by doing this and yet I just can’t seem to find the words. And anytime I do find the words, I am so afraid of being rejected that my heart catches in my throat and I can’t say what I want and need to say. I don’t even know why I’m afraid of being rejected. Well, yes, I do. No one likes rejection and with my emotional rollercoaster of late, the chances of rejection are probably higher than usual.
I don’t know what it is about being sick the way that I have been and what has turned into a recovery period that just seems to go on and on and on that has my emotions in such upheaval. I think that it might be the isolation, in part. I am lonely. I am very lonely. I ache with the weight of how lonely I feel. Perhaps it’s self-imposed to an extent.

I have been doing a lot of thinking about what I want. I have come up with the following.
I want forever. I want passion. I want quiet moments and just laying on the couch watching a movie or a sports recap or some strange show on the travel channel. I want something that gets in my face when I’m being an ass and stupid. I want to do the same when the opposite is true. I want honesty. I want indifference to be banned. I want romance. I want the day-to-day non-events. I want to talk- even if it’s fighting, I want to keep talking. I want to share laughter and tears and the moments in between when everything is nothing extraordinary. I want all the tomorrows. I want to hold hands. I want casual touches that are simple reminders that ‘Hey.. You’re here and I’m here, and I know it.” I want to be told I matter. I want to be old and gray haired and still holding hands. I want to pray and worship together and nourish the spirituality of my chosen mate, as he nourishes mine.
I want a lot. I know the chances of obtaining everything I listed above are slim. I know I ask a lot. I’m also willing to give a lot. I want to give a lot. I’d give almost everything (there are some things that I will never give on, and those revolve around my son).

I wrote about the right time in the last blog post I made and once again, the subject is on my mind. I wonder if the stars are simply misaligned and there is no way for anything to work out. There are moments when I consider the timing and I regret that anything ever began- not because I love any less, but because I love so much. I’m so unsure of myself and of everything.


I don’t know what the point of this has been. Mostly, I’ve been rambling, something I tend to do a lot. Perhaps an attempt to exorcise emotion through the act of writing and find some small amount of peace? Or maybe it’s a feeble attempt at explaining myself. Maybe I’m just full of hot air. I don’t know. Whatever the case, I’ve hung it all out to dry now, no take-backs.

Thinking more, I had to come back to this and edit it. I'm an idiot- a clueless, blind, dumb idiot. Proof that I never, ever learn. At some point, you realize you make rules for yourself for a reason. For a good damned reason. And breaking them is just plain stupid. So from now on, I will not be breaking my own rules. In the end.. I can't say that memories aren't worth the way things inevitably end, but I also can't say that I can handle doing this again. I can't handle it. Maybe it makes me a coward, but I can't handle putting myself out there and coming back broken again. That's why I put myself away for 6 years to begin with.
But with a conclusion comes a sense of release. It is over. There is nothing more to wonder about or frustrate over. It is simply over. So it goes.

"Clarity of mind means clarity of passion, too; this is why a great and clear mind loves ardently and sees distinctly what he loves." -- Blaise Pascal

Clarity. I often find myself attempting to stop, refocus my sight and gain my footing, and find clarity in the chaos that is daily life. It always leaves me slightly nauseous, using a hand on a wall to steady myself, struggling to make sense of everything. I've had a lot of time to be introspective and seek clarity lately- illness allows for that, between the pain and healing and recovery. And I think- no, I know- that I've found at least a little.

I once believed that there was a right time for everything. There was a time line and everything had its moment when it was 'right'. But what if I was wrong. What if there is no right time? What if there is only now, only this moment. What if there is only this moment and you let it go without taking the chance, and that's it?

Clarity- what are you going to do with this moment? I know what I'm doing with it- I'm open-armed and open hearted and I'm here.

I'm Scared.

I'm scared. As I lay here trying to get comfortable and let the antihistimines take effect to help with the reaction to the antibiotics I had been taking, I am so incredibly scared. So scared, in fact, that I am having to fight desperately to keep myself from descending into the dark hole where, in the past, I've curled up into a ball and done my damnedest to ignore the fear. My fingernails are caked with dirt from working to drag myself out of that hole before I go any deeper.

I know I shouldn't be afraid- the infection is healing, the worst is over. What is there to fear? I look at the incisions (one is 3 inches and one is about an inch) and I wonder if they will ever heal well or if I will have a set of ugly scars for the rest of my life. It's a stupid thing to be afraid of, but I fear it. I'm afraid that it will be disgusting and will cause other areas of my life to suffer once healed.

I fear the new antibiotic will not be effective- that the hives will go away, but that the infection will return. And what if my body just doesn't have what it takes to fight the MRSA again? I'm afraid of getting so sick that I cannot fight it.

I fear the next surgery that will likely happen in the next week or two. I fear being put under anesthesia again. I'm afraid I won't wake back up. I fear never seeing my son's face or holding him or kissing his soft sweet cheek, or runing my fingers through his hair. I fear going under and not having told the person I love how much I do love them- not hearing their voice beforehand. Not tasting their kiss.

I'm afraid that with all these restrictions- no work, no driving- that I will fall back into the hole. I know I have family and friends who love me and will do everything they can for me, but it's such an imposition to have to come and pick me up to go do something (a movie, dinner, just hanging out). And I need to get out- I need to go see a movie, I need to go out to eat, I need to just hang out and watch tv/a movie. I know that I need this. But I find I can't ask it of anyone- I can't ask them to set their lives aside to come cater to me. No one has the time to do that for/with me. Everyone has lives. I am not anywhere near the center of them.

I'm just tired. And clawing to get out of the house and do something mostly stationary, that just doesn't involve being at the doctor/in the hospital/ or in my bed. I'm trying so hard to hold on to the positive things but it is so hard. :( I'm finding it so hard, which is so stupid because I have an amazing family, the love of the most awesome little boy ever to breathe, and the love of a good man.
I just need to find something, anything, super positive and hold on for dear life until I'm on an upswing again. I am holding onto my faith with all I have and praying like crazy. Prayer is all I have left at this point.
On a positive note, unless you were to get all handsy on my incision/wound area, I'm not going to make you sick.

I don't even know what this blog is really about. My fear, maybe. I'm really scared. I wish I were 5 again and someone hugging me and telling me that it will all be ok was enough to make me believe that everything would be ok. That everything would get better. But I'm not, and it doesn't work that way.

I'm scared. And lonely.

So it goes.