Hallmark doesn’t make a Valentine card that says, “You disgust and disappoint me.” I know because I looked.
It seems like this is all I want to say to people lately, probably because it is what I am saying to myself. Thankfully, I have not acted on this urge; I have not hurt anyone’s feelings with this awful sentiment. Well, except for myself.
I came close when I ventured out to Williams Sonoma with the baby in the Artic temps, only to find that they were closed for inventory. A salesperson came to the door and asked if I could come back tomorrow. No, I replied, this was the ONE day I had for running this errand to buy a gift. She offered me a coupon for 10% off my next purchase. I turned away, choosing to be rude, and say “whatever” as I skulked off. This interaction immediately made me feel like crap. Disgusted. Disappointed. In myself.
In the past week, I wrote and abandoned three posts.
I don’t have much to say that would improve the sound of silence.
Truth is, I have been stressed and exhausted and zapped of creative impetus. Although I miss writing and posting, I just can’t bring myself to blog. . .
In the mean time, it seems my task to embrace the crappiness, accept that some weeks are just not as bright, fuzzy, creative, or funny as others.
Sometimes during down time at work, I google up articles on mindfulness or Buddhism, try to learn a nugget or two. As much as I love the idea of living a more Buddhist life, I have a hard time really grasping what it is all about. Today, this came up in a search I ran, “There is a fundamental illusion behind all reality. Things are not as we perceive them to be. . . all things arise out of a common Great Void and return to it in an endless cycle. This void is not dead and cold like a nihilistic Black hole but is vibrant and alive,” (from www.eastern-philosophy-and-meditation.com).
I’ve been musing on this quote, thinking about how things I consider to be problems arise from this place, and then go back there to become some other sort of energy. Financial strain. The war in Syria. My son’s behavioral problems at bedtime. A blemish on my skin. Arguments about gun-control. Sleep deprived irritability.
And then there are the things that are precious but so fleeting, like my children bleating their joy at my arrival home after work.
It comforts me to think of this vibrant void, to imagine it swirling with color and light, like a laundromat dryer full of bright clothes. I’m not sure if this is what that quote was going for, but I like it.
I’ll post again about my passions for motherhood, nursing, social work, or music when I feel a little less disgusted and disappointed. Until then, I will try to embrace these emotions and then send them back into the void. Maybe they will come back as something else.