I’m a couple of months into this, and it’s finally occurring to me that if I want any time to myself, I’m gonna have to shut down some of these personal appearances and fly solo.
At first, my main goal was to get out, and get with people. I really needed a heavy dose of connection, and it has been wonderful to realize how many decent and kind people there are looking for human contact. The struggle is real. And people who acknowledge the struggle and jump in with at least on foot – they are my favorite.
All this showing up has me a bit scattered, though. I’m not interested in mapping out my psyche on some grid, but it’s a thing to crave human connection and still need solitude. I believe I am what is called and extroverted introvert. I can barely say it without feeling all E.S.T.-ey, but it’s true.
I am having a small moment of low-drama crisis. Currently my car is impounded (registration wasn’t completed?? – I don’t recall this), a phone that is lost in the back of an uber, and a bank card that is somewhere in this house but can’t be located with any available resource. It’s as if my life is having a nervous breakdown, though I am feeling relatively good myself. But I really do need to do some laundry.
I’m feeling tired. I am probably one of the few people who looks forward to surgery, and I’m going under the knife this week. I love propofol. You go down surrounded by sweet people who are focussed only on your comfort, (that, and keeping you breathing and alive) and while you’re out, you get your tires rotated and wake up new and improved. Propofol is the only anesthetic that gives restorative sleep. First time I had it I woke up refreshed and serene and I said to the anesthesiologist – “My gad, mon, what is this magic you work?” Apparently most people have that same reaction to propofol. If you are a Michael Jackson fan, this explains a lot.
Falling asleep can be very hard for people like me, especially when we are exhausted. There’s no sense in being upset by it, but there are times you just want to conk out. So surgery for me is a sort of Jesus-Take-the-Wheel thing. There is nothing I like better than handing myself over to other people and letting them deal with the task of keeping me alive. It’s not something I do often, but my inner child enjoys an occasional regression. And right now my bum arm needs a remodel, so…
The car, the phone, the card….maybe I’ve lost them all because I don’t really want them right now. Maybe I want a bed, some books, and four walls to close in on me and hug me tight. Maybe next time I will realize this before I create so much unnecessary busywork for myself ( now, how am I ‘sposed to smog a car that is impounded? Riddle me THAT??)
I’ll slug through and get it all humming along again, but next time my life is this squeezed, remind me to slow down, before I misplace two small dogs, my favorite hair-tie and all my left flip flops. Because there is one thing I know: if I forget to listen to myself, sh*t happens. It always does.