I'm sitting here on a Saturday morning.
My house is a wreck.
But a wreck is its regular state.
Even after I clean it, it takes less than a day and it's a wreck again.
I wonder what particular gene other people have that I do not. The gene that makes your house presentable to drop-in-company at all times. The gene that provides for a steady routine of having the kitchen clean before you go to bed at night as opposed to waking up to it in the morning. Or the gene that keeps the dining table always perfect instead of having to be cleaned off each time you want to sit for a family meal.
I have a red tip photinia bush outside my bedroom window. It is almost as tall as the house and it provides a bit of privacy in front of my bedroom window. This way I can open the blinds for the light but not worry about the neighbors knowing the color of my nightie. At the beginning of summer, I trimmed it exactly the way I wanted it with my new battery powered chainsaw. I could walk under the bowing limbs to go around the corner of the house for the water house and water the flowers in the front box. Did I mention it was exactly the way I wanted it?
Well my husband and my eldest apparently worked in the yard this week and decided it wasn't exactly the way they wanted it. I no longer have that beautiful bowed limb to walk under every other day to get the water hose. And the cars that drive by have a great line of sight directly into my bedroom. And it fills me with an inordinate amount of anger and disappointment...which is added to the list of reasons I'm making an appointment next week with someone to talk to.
I think I have a lot of build up that needs to be discussed. I think I am fine and then I open my mouth and nothing good comes out. I don't even realize it until I've stopped talking and I think to myself, geez...everything you say sounds like you are constantly bitching. Which, of course, I am.
Then I try to make up for it and sound manic.
Yes, it's time to speak with a professional and see what's going on.
What is really hard to understand is that when I do my meditations regularly, I am not this way. But I haven't meditated in two weeks. So does the meditation suppress the problem? Is it like taking a drug that keeps me sedated? Is it a form of not dealing with my feelings? Or is all of life just a matter of perception.
My sister recommended a movie to me, Into the Wild. I watched it last night. Great music by Eddie Veder. His voice is like lava. hot. It was a good movie. I liked it. It was based on a true story, about an idealistic kid who read a lot of Thoreau and wanted to get away from society and spend some time in the wilderness alone. He travelled across the country meeting different people and working odd jobs to get him a little further down the road. He ended up hiking into Alaska for four months and starving to death. It seemed like such a waste. He seemed like such a smart kid to do something so dumb. And although the movie kind of romanticized it all, it didn't seem very romantic to me.
Well everyone is up now and I am going to make a cup of coffee and join the others on the patio. I hope you have a good weekend and get everything accomplished that you want...even if that means just sitting in your chair and doing nothing.
peace and love,