I've been having a fabbo pity party for the last week. Balloons, hats, punch, cheese fountain for the nachos, etc.You know how it is. Nothing dramatic needs to happen to make you start hanging the streamers. After a few days, the accumulation of usual stresses, frustrations and annoyances will make you feel as if you're a hundred years old, everyone hates you and the entire universe is plotting against you.
"Is there a target painted on my back?" Or so I've repeated a million times today.
My "invitation" list is nothing extraordinary when looked at individually, but clump them together into a three-week period and you may understand my zip-less-ness lately.
House broken into. Disturbed sleep patterns due to said break-in. Relentless project at work. Yoga practice faltering. Tango techniques falling apart. Access card number abused. Endless calls to the insurance companies, banks, credit agencies. Faxing. Faxing. Faxing. No reliable Internet at home. Painting, sanding, handiwork yet undone. Blogging back-log, both reading and writing of. Hot water tank still wonky. Appetite faltering. Friends similarly falling apart. Stupid ingrown hairs ("Am I going to turn into that tree man?"). Writing stalled. Again. Culinary talents left unexpectedly with no note to let me know of their return. Still no spring tires, brakes are not behaving properly. And I desperately need a haircut.
"Where is the joy, please?" Or so I've asked a million times today.
But it's really not a big deal. It's just life stuff. It comes it waves, and apparently I had my back turned when a medium-sized one came rolling in. I had a good cry to release the tension, Powell politely (and effectively) reminded me that I'm not in the burn unit or suffering from a disease, and like a good bestie, she helped me come up with an action plan.
The nice thing about weathering a period like this one is the realisation (a) that I am well equipped to deal with such matters head-on, (b) that it's not personal, and (c) that I now have the willingness to finally ask for help (notice I said 'willingness', I'm still working on the 'how-to' part of that equation).
So I think I'll be shutting down this party pretty soon. The music sucked and no one was having a good time anyway.
NB. I might be planning a Help Adriana Fix Stuff at Her House party. Get your tools ready!
NB. I might be planning a Help Adriana Fix Stuff at Her House party. Get your tools ready!
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16 comments:
while it's true that you don't have some life threatening/burn unit/catastrophe hanging over you - getting broken into is traumatic. You get to be angry/pissy/sad/tired/frustrated/ranting/raving - over stuff like that. Everything can come together in its own time as long as you get the time you need for yourself. I hope you get to feeling more yourself - I love your blog, but you get to take as much time to get there as you want. --abrazos
I think your house being broken into is on the extraordinary side of ordinary. Not sleeping, stuff taken, feeling less secure, is it any wonder you feel like indulging in some nachos? Is it any wonder your tango is a little off? And, in the midst of all this, you revised Chapter 7. I raise my glass to you!
Anne C.
Thank you for the permission to be angry, Mari and the Ever-Anonymous Anne C.
I keep thinking that it's not okay to show weakness. It's a relief to know that I can feel like this and that it's natural.
besos back at you both.
Besos? Are those Italian bisous?
Spanish bisous, I think.
Adri! I am having the same party! Nobody broke into my house...no burn unit....but I did 'burst' a disc in my neck (without even knowing how to do that!) and that has sucked.
If we lived in the same city we would:
1. Watch episodes of Growing Pains on surfthechannel.com or click here:: http://www.surfthechannel.com/show/2939.html
2. Catch up with Akruti over brunch with the 'guies.'
3. Get Gillian to invite us over for way-too-much-food-and-drink.
I am loving your blog.
ox
I have just found your blog recently and find your experiences interesting. I think your feelings now are totally natural. While someone breaking into your house may be an impersonal act, you and your sacred space have been violated. Your talking about it is not a sign of weakness, we are all vulnerable, I hope you find some answers and some comfort and get yourself back on track.
Gena
Snandy! That hanger! That hanger!
Could we also photoshop pictures of Usher? And add helmets to photos of dogs? PLEASE!
I've really been enjoying your blog as well - your visuals are clean and sleek and I love being able to eavesdrop on your life.
Hang tough, baby, hang tough.
Gena: Thank you for finding me - it's so lovely to be stumbled upon! And thank you for your kind words most of all - the comments on this blog post have impacted me in a way I had not expected.
Hope to see you again soon!
I think people expect that grieving only occurs when someone dies, but that's just foolishness. Grieving happens all the time, and over a great number of dissimilar things. Grieving is part of a process that involves accepting a sudden change, and the most immediate (and common) reaction is depression. I know. I lived it very recently.
The thing about depression (not the clinical or medicated kind) is that you just have to stay the course. Let it go through you at its own pace, because there's no forcing it out. I think of it as a great opportunity to get good and dark, like, because I don't let myself indulge in that too often.
And you know? Getting broken into rocks your world, but most importantly, your sense of security. The only comfort for that are certain statistics, like "burglars don't rob the same place twice," or "3 in 5 people get burgled." But I don't find those things comforting at all. So yeah, have your pity party, because it'll be inappropriate for you to have it in a month. And anyway, you're not necessarily pitying yourself as such. You're struggling to feel safe again, and that's normal. That's the grieving part. So grieve! Because you know, from having lived it before, that the difficult, unsexy part goes away eventually.
Plus, it sounds like you're already at that point where you're sick of grieving, which is a great place to be. That's when stuff starts to get done.
To help things move along, I also suggest making that hair appointment. I don't know why, but it helps.
Thanks Lady Miss O - I booked a facial instead - does that count?
It might even be better.
Sweets, if I was there I would deliver a wonderful Collywell hug, the only way I know how.
I am sorry that you are going through the tribulations (especially the house being broken into!), however YOU are the most important exponent in this here equation.
I am thankful that you are alright and I know that you will come through. Take time to relax, relate and release. Even the great ones are allowed a pity party now and then. Honey, we are only human. :)
You and your fabulous self will come through. I send baskets of positive vibes your way. xx
Miss Collywell, what would I do without you?
MWAH!
Well, that sounds like a terrible week, and you have every right to feel bad about it all for a while. Is it possible for you to completely shut down for a couple of days and crawl into bed - not work, not dance, not do anything but feel like crap? I sometimes find that fully indulging the misery helps me get past it.
Thinking of you and wishing you the best.
I'm trying to disconnect my brain - that's where the problem truly resides - but it's difficult.
The weekend did help though.
And congratulations again soon-to-be-Mrs!
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