i tried newness. each time it was the old adage - wherever you go, there you are. some places were fine; some horrid, but newness by itself achieved nothing. just like coming home, despite the comfort level inherent in it, will achieve nothing without an active input of... oh god, i'm not quite sure of what, though it's some flavour of being a responsible grown-up who doesn't run away the second things turn wonky.
i drove home today from a delightful turkey dinner and caught snippets of my past in my rear view mirror. turning down one street conjured up flashes of my 20's. driving under an overpass brought back my teenage self, high school bound, high on the drug that is young adulthood. not whole memories but tiny shards with just enough context to bring back stories about my life.
that is the joy (and pain) of being home - so many tales on every street corner, under particular trees, around bends, and bridges. this place has stories of me written all over the map, and i am fine with that: right now i want to be somewhere that knows the stages of my being - who i was, who i am, all that happened in between. this place means i was, i am, though no promises of i will be - one never knows.
it snowed all friday afternoon, all saturday, and a chunk of sunday. last year the october long weekend was sunshine and warmth - you never know around here. slush, snow, a windshield wiper that chose the most inopportune moment to self destruct, and a winter that came too soon (although winter comes when it comes. "too soon" is not a term that can be applied in this case, no matter what we think).
this one other small thing (again):
i've been angry for the last couple of days. impatient. petulant. livid. done. exhausted. because i feel the darkness coming and i am so profoundly sick and tired of it. i feel like i work on my mental health so goddamned hard and the chemicals in my brain are all, hey! you know what? FUCK you! fuck you and your effort! mindfulness? pfffft! meditation? ptooie on your meditation! conscious breathing? i fart in your general direction! therapy? ha! expensive designer drugs? well, that was nice for a year or two, wasn't it? but now? FUCK those too! the joy of coming home? FUCK that! new job? MASSIVE SELF-ESTEEM CRISIS!!! FUCK YEAH! breathing? SO OVER IT! another 40-50 years of this? no, thanks. i am a morbidly obese person living on celery and water, running a marathon a day, and still gaining weight that (spoiler alert!) isn't muscle.
yeah, i realise i have moved cities (and provinces AND countries) in the last 6 years. i have dropped out of a lengthy career-type whatsit, gone to grad school, left my husband to live by myself twice, started two new jobs, etc. etc. all of which, statistically speaking, is pretty much designed to fuck up my equanimity, and i've done it not once, not twice, but, like, a whole bunch of times that still manages to stick to the single digits but just barely. so yeah, technically i know i have a right to feel this way, but i also know that i don't give a goddamned fuck about how unsurprising this is - i just want to feel human again. hissy fit? why, yes! yes, i am having a hissy fit! i am having a hissy fit because i'm so over being allergic to life.
and btw, dear poultries, don't feel the need to be helpful and stuff because this isn't an easy one (or any longer an interesting one, if it ever was that) to comment on. i have my tools; they have proven ineffective. i am searching for new tools, so really just wish me luck and move on. nothing to see here. someone will come by and clean up the mess soon, i'm sure.