perched at the end of my rope.
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ready and waiting.i cannot even begin to list all that was last week that is no longer. but for your benefit, and so you get some sense of the whirlwind lifting my hair in tangles of gusts, let me count the ways:
- a broken heart and soul searching conversations
- two new pets
- a sister moving out of washington
- a grandpa having a stroke and learning how to talk again in a matter of days
- i get laid off (last monday)
- i leave for mexico (coming monday)
well, i guess that sums it up.
so i figured it's probably a good time to pick up the book sitting on my self, checked out from my local library taken on a good faith recommendation from my psychologist AND psychiatrist. it's called transitions. it's been really interesting so far; his main supposition being that Americans are bred and addicted to change; our country was founded on the principal that there is always something bigger and better out there, thus breading a country of those unable, unwilling, and unpracticed in rest and stability. he argues that we are therefore always in transition and a country tortured by discontent.
but what i have found most satisfying to chew on - of all the morsels (sweet and sour) of news and thoughts in my clamoring brain is the truth that i am not hungry, i am not cold, and i am not without love.
support has flooded my inbox and it makes me somewhat regret that i didn't send out an email to all my friends and family before i was laid off with the words, "i am miserable, i need your support." so many words (which is how i most often receive love) would have come flooding my way, but here i was lost in my own self-inflicted autumn of isolation.
support has flooded my inbox and it makes me somewhat regret that i didn't send out an email to all my friends and family before i was laid off with the words, "i am miserable, i need your support." so many words (which is how i most often receive love) would have come flooding my way, but here i was lost in my own self-inflicted autumn of isolation.
it also made me miss my mother.
we don't often talk (maybe once a year).
we don't often talk (maybe once a year).
but when we corresponded about my job and how we were both relieved and shocked, i realized that i would probably die if i didn't get down to mexico (where she lives and where i have never visited her) soon. i am not sure why. i don't care to know why; what i know is that i needed something as familiar as the day i was born and she is the only one who can give it to me. i needed to get out of dodge. i needed to let this sink in before i jumped into something else. i needed to breathe a different culture. so i scrapped together some emergency funds and she helped me find a way to her. i plan to do nothing but rest, write, eat authentic mexican food, and drink tequila.
oh, and did i mention that it's 80 degrees there?
i can already feel myself relaxing.
i can already feel myself relaxing.
so tomorrow is my last day...
didn't i just pray that i could quit?
i feel like a fledgling, bounding on narrow-tipped branches...
i have been waiting for the right weather conditions but mother nature makes me have to learn now.
my little body shudders with excitement and fear.
(or like my octavia, new to a world that already loves her, daily growing in confidence and curiosity.
oh to greet the morning so...)and my wings are spreading to catch this hot gust...
i asked for this.
remember.
i asked for this.
remember.
i asked for this.
a lady bird from chicago once sent me words by victor hugo that now hang above my nightstand...
"Be like the bird that,
passing on her flight awhile on boughs too slight,
feels them give way beneath her,
and yet sings,
knowing that she hath wings."
passing on her flight awhile on boughs too slight,
feels them give way beneath her,
and yet sings,
knowing that she hath wings."
and ladies and gents...
i know.
i have wings.
~turns out we are all living right before our very eyes,
crm
5 comments:
I have that book Transitions. It's a good one.
I might need that book soon. Budget cuts for schools aren't looking good for me. This comes at a time though when I was just telling John, "There has to be something better for me, I feel it".
I won't be heading to Mexico though. I have already had my fill of 80 degree winters :)
Oh wow, that is an an EPIC week to have had! I'm glad that you have the support of your friends, and your Mum and that you can go to her in Mexico for a while.
I always found when I was in a tight spot time away provided clarity and gave me time to get my shit together. I hope Mexico offers the same for you!
such an apt and lovely phrase. perched is so chipper, so undauntedly full of spring and yet marked by a utter loss of all that is familiar, all that represents our resources.
this lady bird thanks you for witnessing, and loving nonetheless, her fractured heart...
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