I’m in a stream-of-consciousness mood. The dishwasher’s running, two chanterelle mushroom night lights glow a dark yellow, and all is nighttime. The pain in my upper chest worries me, but not enough to do anything about. I worry it’s a clogged artery, but I’m not even sure if that’s where an artery is or if anything is clogged. You might say, go to the doctor. And I’d reply, nah, not yet. I’ll focus on vegetables and walking. And going to a graduation party tomorrow.
I’m going to use my flat iron to curl my hair. For some reason, that is the most exciting thing I’m planning to do tomorrow—my hair. And that the contingencies for our house contract will be fulfilled, I hope anyway. I need that hurdle to be over. I don’t like who I am in negotiations. I’m cutthroat and obsessive. I’m a scrapper with advantages and power. Even if you’re not messing with me, but I think you are, I will bulldoze you over.
My Dad told me today, “Jaclynn, you are competitive; you like to win.” He’s right, I do. I calmed down when he said that. The scrapper in me, the feeling like a cornered dog against a pack, wants to gnaw at them all. Even when they’re my pack. Ain’t that whack? But that’s me, and love it or list it, it’s what I’m working with.
I need people around me to keep me within bounds. I do only so good on my own. My Dad saw my eyes glowing red and said, no, no, not necessary. I feel like I’m giving in. Am I? And if I was, would that be so wrong? It’s not life or death, after all.
I want to fast-forward two months. That’d be August 21st. I’ll be on vacation in Florida, so maybe I should go out another month—to September 21st. Yes, that works. Three months from now, will I be more relaxed? Was this time period and all that I was doing the problem, and once it calmed down, am I better? September 21st, I will answer myself then. *Putting a note in my phone now
Years ago, I got advice after the end of a five-year-long relationship. She told me it’d take three months to heal. I remember counting forward from November when it happened, looking forward to February when I’d feel differently. And by gosh, the advice panned out—way better than she likely could have imagined. That’s when I met Dave, changing the trajectory of my life as I had known it.
I’ve been nostalgic lately but in a painful way. It’s not regret, but the passage of time. Swimming and spending time at our lake today, I looked at the humongous cottonwood trees. Their sway and size shape the landscape, and their light-to-dark tambourine leaves shaking feel like home. I felt beyond grateful for them.
And now I’m here, writing, back to paying attention to the tightness in my chest. It’s there more frequently at night, even though I noticed it earlier this afternoon.
I think it’s time for bed, even though I’ll probably practice Spanish for an hour. I hope your weekend is rockin’.
Love, Jaclynn
Going On 40 