PlazaJen: Passion Knit

I'm waiting for a meeting to start, and I feel restless. It could be related to the fact I didn't have a "good" lunch, per se, unless yogurt, gummy bears & peanut butter cheese crackers count. I didn't feel like going out for anything because nothing sounded particularly great, and reflecting on last night's dinner (toasted meatball sandwiches w/ provolone) and anticipation for tonight's dinner (spicy sausage pasta), nothing really resonated. Given how much I'll indulge my cravings when I have them (lookin' at you, Thai food), I figure I should roll with the lack-of-cravings as well, since they happen less frequently.

Lessee, not much else happening here in the Shire, as I like to call my life, ever since the droll line was thrown out by the hobbit-clad main character on Big Bang Theory this week (That's how we roll in the Shire....) Tripper is not sleeping through the night, one of my dearest friends is about to have a baby, work is not exploding (I'm cursed now just for writing that), duck season's starting, and I have a lot of knitting to do.

Last night, late, after all James and the dogs had fallen asleep, I did have a burst of grief. There was an excellent article in this month's Real Simple, about grief and grieving, which is what probably poked it into life. The image I had was like all those YouTube videos of Mentos being dropped into 2-liter Diet Coke bottles. A fissure opens & grief rockets into the air, and then passes. As difficult as it was to go through, I think I'm going to take the time this weekend to write the answers to the questions included in the article.... may even put them out here, to make it that much more "real". I know, on some level, that embracing this pain and not turning from it, while still not allowing it to rule my life, will ultimately serve me better in the long run. I think it's normal (well, ok, MY kinda "normal") to compartmentalize and even ignore some of the pain and longing and ugh, grief. (I am so sick of that word.) But I don't think you can ignore it long-term without it totally biting you in the ass. And as much as my ass could use some trimming, that's not the way to go. I think as an animal, we like our "knowns". The sun comes up, and then goes down. Even when it's raining and storming, we still know/believe the sun is making its journey across our landscape. Your car starts when you put the key in, you choose the checkout line with the best bagger in the store, you always park near cart corrals, because the familiar comforts us, provides a nest, a buffer to the days when the car doesn't start, or your company lays off 30 employees, or you wake up with a head cold. And some of us crave that normalcy more than others, for example, me. What is difficult to see, especially in the early throes of it, is that grief is the devil's limbo. And you have no idea if the music is ever. going. to stop. What I'm realizing is that it doesn't actually stop, but it stops bending you over backwards like a stalk of wheat in the wind on a daily basis. I guess the challenge is to find the new comfort zone, the new normal, how to offset the lows and manage the plummets. It's so hard to see things when you're in the midst of them, and all you see is that damn bar, pushing you back, down into the depths, away from the norm.

Labels: the next year