bright young thing: November 2012

Saturday, November 24, 2012

Dear Diary,

It's a super chilly Saturday after Black Friday after Thanksgiving. I chose the Christmas station on Pandora for the first time this year. Anything to do with Christmas before Thanksgiving is simply unacceptable in my mind. But, now that Thanksgiving is over and the remnants of the delicious feast are sitting, waiting, beckoning from my refrigerator, it's perfectly fine to put on those Christmas carols to deck the halls of our new place. Yes, I moved... AGAIN. My whole body is screaming at me with contempt, however it is overshadowed by the lovely feeling of having a lot more space in a one bedroom townhouse. Hooray!
Parker and Marley seem to love it, as well and retire to their respective cozy spots completely exhausted from racing up and down the stairs a billion times a day. Apart from a couple of finishing touches, I'm happy to say that everything is unpacked and in its right place in record time.

My mind however, is wrecking havoc on the rest of me. I've had some pretty astounding dreams over the past couple of nights - a sign that my imagination is in rare form. This can also be a negative thing when my mind decides to play God and resurrect scenes from the past and play them over and over. It also enjoys reading between the lines and getting very creative with worst case scenarios and conspiracy theories... or in layman's term, it loves to worry obsessively. This leads to anxiety.

I haven't had anxiety in a very long time.

But, on this super chilly Saturday after Black Friday after Thanksgiving, I am ridden with it like some sort of impeding outbreak of influenza. The people who really work my nerves are REALLY working my nerves. The things I've let go of have leapt back into my hands and stitched themselves round like gloves. Too tight gloves. The kind where my fingers feel claustrophobic. Uncomfortable like having to hold it in the car on a road trip until the next exit... which isn't for another 20 miles. Antsy. Like a dog in a cage waiting for it's beloved to come home. Even worse, how Marley must feel in that same predicament whilst Parker is free to roam around the new wide open space. (He's earned it, believe you me.)

Sometimes I wish that the mind WAS in fact a bit more like a computer, so that I could select certain files and delete them. Not only delete them from the original folder, but from the trash bin as well. But, the memories are here to stay. The scars from the wounds you've all but forgotten about are noticed on those random days... and all of the trauma comes back with it. And you wish that grace, mercy and forgiveness would outrun all of the nonsense and memories and the lingering pain. You wish that you were better at it all. But sometimes, the past comes back up like a flash and it just still hurts a bit. And the flashback makes you freeze... makes you shake a little... makes you panic... makes the simple tasks unbearable.

Lame.

And so, diary, this is where today has brought me.
However, I'm not having it.
I have too many things for my mind to be proactively creative about...
Rather than worry and fear.