Not often, but enough to comment about, I wake in the morning feeling fragile. Both mentally and physically.
And straight out-of-the-gate do I find it disappointing that a fresh day has to be wasted by being hyper-aware of life’s uncertainties, and wondering about that lingering soreness just below my right elbow.
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It’s a form of depression. One that I’ve known since memory serves.
I know what I need to do is just get up.
Usually, as the day brings on new encounters and sights, I move further away from the initial feeling. And the fragile bits move to the back of the stage. Still there, but now minor players.
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When things were rough about 10 years ago. I’d wake up, feel that feeling, then close my eyes and try again a few hours later.
This was constant for two years … being felled by that emotional trap of doing the same thing over and over again expecting different results.
One day I said enough.
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It’s a tall order, requesting the Universe makes today better than yesterday.
I do. Every night.
And I hope with all of my heart, and prepare just in case.
I handle fragile days well now, and can get myself to a nice spot pretty early on. But man oh man, when those good days come and there’s zero effort? Wow, what a gift.
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I think I’m safe in saying that there is nothing better than a good day. It doesn’t even have to be filled with events. It can just be a day for the sake of being a day.
You know, the day when the coffee to creamer ratio is spot on.
When the inside temp is the right balance of cozy. When the shower cleans and soothes. When work solutions are solid and progressive. When late afternoon WhatsApp chats are funny and filled with stories that pepper in harmless gossip about people I’ll never meet.
And finally, when sleep comes, and both sides are the cool side of the pillow.
I mean. C’mon now. Both sides of the pillow?
I know, Right?
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I have many things to be thankful for … and thanking is a part of my daily existence.
But I’ll admit … when I have those good days, as I go off into dreamland, like a 5 year old on Christmas Eve, I simply cannot wait for another one just like it tomorrow.
It is my wish every night.
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So, it’s a right ‘ole bummer when the day starts off fragile.
I can get truly down about it if not careful. I know not to close my eyes and try again later. Instead, I get up, begrudgingly, and try try now.
But the struggle for balance is enormous, and I protect myself like a bear protecting her cub.
I get it right most of the time. “Most” is the keyword here.
Like yesterday when I began this post.
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Yesterday was one of those porcelain-day beginnings. I did all the things that I know to do: Get up. Get Dressed. Do Work. Go Out.
I was on the plus side for most of the day when I went over to my brother Drew’s place for our annual Babette’s Feast movie night.
All was great and I was great until we fundamentally disagreed on a needless topic, which turned our pleasant evening into an unpleasant civil contention, which spoilt any change of me finding any cool side of any pillow that night.
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Drew and I are fabulous when we keep the conversation to movies and music and personal plans (like trips or renovations or moving). But involve people we know or scenes from our past? Uh oh. One must be cautious how to proceed.
See I find my brother’s take on people and history to be harsh, pigeonholing, and filled with, to quote him, assumptions.
He seems to find me careless with scientific facts and biographical timelines, and grossly naive.
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Normally I handle all my brothers’ with diplomacy, but my guard was at 50% and I forgot to check my Ego when I responded to what I considered was an unnecessary unflattering retort about another family member.
Why take the bait?
What am I to do with someone else’s fishing pole and lure?
Yeah, where was that sage advice yesterday?
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Luckily, it was the end of the evening. But we didn’t like each other much when we parted with a hug that was more distant than Pluto.
For sure there is a reason why siblings don’t live together beyond the age of adulthood. After that, we’re all porcelain dolls.
But … that is for another post.
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And though he said stuff that made me want to tell Mum, my response to my brother made him feel maligned in what is his safe place, his home. And that wasn’t fair when the option to walk away was right there for me to choose.
I’m being vague here on purpose, but I do want it noted that our opposing camps are still very much on the decent side of humanity, ethics and equal rights. Just when it comes to our interpretations of people and events in our mutual worlds? Yeah, not so much.
I am not even sure if we are both not speaking to each other, or what.
As of this post, the answer yes.
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So, my already fragile yesterday kicked me in the ass. At least last night I had an idea of what this morning could be like.
And last night I wished again, like a I wish every night.
And today I am back to try try trying again.
Happy Sunday.