I must admit, I was torn about how to respond. My initial reaction was to lie, tell her she’s a piece of shit, or simply not respond at all. My blood boiled at the text, and my thoughts became a jumbled mess. Thankfully, I resisted the temptation to react impulsively and instead sought Dave’s matter-of-fact responses, which didn’t provoke the hornets’ nest I secretly desired.
Today, I don’t want to engage in chaos, no matter how much my mammalian brain tries to lure me onto the dance floor.
On a brighter note, I stumbled upon a golden-hued, meditating giraffe for $12.99 at Marshall’s, and it now sits on the floating shelf in the guest room. It’s a cutey that brings a smile to my insides.
But how am I doing? I ask myself, as my thought lens focuses on others and the next thing on my to-do list. What about me?
I think I’m doing okay. Despite the lake’s muddy banks, the brown grass, and the vanishing snow and glaciers on Mount Rainier, I’m hanging in there. Although, hearing myself say that, I wonder if I’m more weary than I realized? Perhaps. At times, I find myself becoming a cynic, bummed out by reality. One of my clients showed me photos of the dark, cluttered basement where his family lives, resembling rats underground. His hope is to earn enough money to uplift them to higher ground. But I wonder, is that even possible for them?
I find solace in my apathetic moments. The “it doesn’t matter” or “who cares” mentality is like a gentle anesthesia for life’s sharp edges.
Maybe what I need is a good drama, a real morose and depressing show to wallow in these feelings and give them the space they need to run their course.
Now that I think about it, these feelings have been creeping up on me over the past couple of days, but I didn’t have the time or space to explore them. A quick Google search for “the most depressing films” led me to “The Machinist,” a movie that curiously crossed my mind earlier this week.
You might be wondering, Jaclynn, why would you want to nurture depressive feelings? Well, let me explain. Because they’re here. I want them to know that I have their back and I’m not trying to dismiss or distract them away. It’s okay that they’re here, just like someone once told me about dealing with grief. They give themselves twenty-four hours to be sad, immersing themselves in it—listening to sad music, watching sorrowful movies, and reflecting on the loss. So, I’m willing to give this approach a shot too.
I’ll see you tomorrow. Love ya! Jaclynn
Going On 40 