Tag Archives: restless

What IS This, Exactly?

I am not one for a bunch of emotion. I think these past two years have been the most outwardly emotional I have been in quite some time (or maybe ever). I know what those look/feel like. I know what fear looks like; I know what joy feels like; I know what anger says….but as of late I am a walking cesspool of butterflies and smiles. WTF is that???

I caught myself smiling at the ceiling at work one morning–lost in thought. I found myself battling butterflies and squishy insides one afternoon. I called Brooklyn yesterday and literally screamed in her ear for no reason other than just to get whatever this crap is out. What is happening to me?

I left my car keys hanging in the car door. I left my office keys hanging in my desk drawer. I can barely string together a sentence or comprehend what people are saying because my brain is like scrambled eggs (gosh that sounds good right now…I’m starving…see what I mean…lost focus). My heart skips beats and I swear I blush about 50 times a day. I am a walking, barely talking skin bag full of squishiness and fog.

Even now I sit with butterflies in my belly, floating from one end to another. Do I have some sort of disease? Is it Shingles? I have had chicken pox, you know. Scarlet Fever? The Flu? It’s not crabs because my gentiles don’t itch. And, no, I am not with child–this uterus is on lock down. Perhaps the Zombie Virus is a real thing and my body is fighting it with a vengeance? Whatever is happening, it feels funky but it feels good. I feel like I am floating beyond Cloud 9.

~SM

What’s Next?

Gathered in the living room with old friends and tiny new ones (one of which was sky diving off a Huggies box; the other chasing the Boy), I posed the question: What’s next? With the end of the year looming it was a very viable question. We have seen one another through relationships, marriages, kids, twenty-something antics, job changes, and geographical changes. Most of us are close to 40–some of us just a sneeze away–and at this stage in life, doesn’t one wonder what’s next?

Columbo said what’s next for him is retirement. Having spent about 20 years in law enforcement, he is looking forward to slowing down and spending time with the Huggies box dare-devil and Speedy. Ralph (the newly wed) said he wanted to enjoy life outside of working. He wanted to travel, enjoy his new bride, and explore speaking and teaching.  The Boy would be off to college shortly. The Girl would be close behind. Watching the kids play, the Boy 14, the Girl 12, Huggies 2, Speedy 4, it was clear to see what was next for them: growing.

It had me thinking what was next for me. These first 15 – 20 years have whirled passed. One moment I was graduating high school and the next I was getting a divorce. One moment I was pregnant for the first time and the next I was buying bras and explaining menstrual cycles. The time flew by–flashed by really–and, at the end of it all, I do not feel as if I have accomplished much.

So…what is next? It is sad to say I have no clue. The thought of teaching (not kids…I don’t like kids) has been tugging at my mind. Everyone keeps bringing up the Magazine and to be honest, I have been missing it too. Writing (of course) an NY Best Selling novel (well, several NY Best Selling novels) is floating around as well. But all of those are unicorns. Mystical creatures only captured on black velvet canvas and sold in flea markets. What is next?

Normally, I would end a post like this with some up beat Matthew McConaughey ‘just livin’ conclusion, but this time I am baffled–thus unable to render such a positive wrap up. I am not feeling very positive about this at all. I feel confused, clouded, and slightly annoyed. Have you ever walked into a room, previously knowing why you were going in there to begin with, only to get there and go blank?Your brain grasps for the thing you were searching for only to come back foggy? Well, as of today, that is what feels like is next: unicorns and fog.

~SM

Finding Purpose

I am a busy body but it is never my busy. I am busy doing other people’s busy. Kids, work, friends, lovers….never mine. I need something to capture my attention. I need something to fuel my drive. It’s in there…the drive that is.

On a freezing November too-early-to-be-up-on-a-Sunday morning, I sat in the car waiting for the baseball game to start thinking about a friend of mine. He’s young. He’s ambitious. He’s prepared for success. He often speaks of being self sufficient and quitting his job within a year. He is confident in his craft. It makes me a little jealous…I want that too. I want the something to do. The busy.

Being a mother is a wonderful blessing. I don’t take the experience of giving my body and life over to the miracle for granted. I complain, sure, but the experience and the blessing as a whole is not lost on me. For a while, I thought perhaps that was my purpose: to be the best mom ever. Not a bad purpose, if you ask me, but I think I am here for a little more than that.

I owned a magazine. Albeit, I did not handle every aspect of the magazine correctly, but I remember losing myself for hours in the office planning, plotting, and designing. It was my baby. I say all of the time I let it go because no one was listening to my voice but the truth of the matter is I let it go because I thought that was the reason why my husband was cheating.

I would rarely go to bed on time. I stopped being his tv side kick. I was constantly typing or taking meetings or buzzing with ideas. When I found out his eyes and affections had wondered beyond me, I put it down thinking I was being a neglectful wife. Save the pitied looks and tsk-tsk, I have beat myself up over it worse than anyone else could.

So here I am, no longer a neglectful wife, mom taxi, teenage love advice giver, tweenage confidence booster lost in the fray of other people’s lives. Where is mine?

My friend said that he’s not doing music for the money or the fame. It is his language. He said everyone has a language and music is his and it is his charge (from God of course) to speak it. I guess I just want to speak my language too….but I suppose I have to find the voice to speak it with first…right?

~SM

Transcending Flesh

I was explaining to a friend the randomness I have been experiencing as of late. She listened patiently, nodding in silent agreement of being there once or twice, and when I was done rambling she said something that made the randomness make perfect sense.

Lately, I have had somewhat of an out of body experience, for lack of better words. It feels like I am wearing the suit of someone else. I am wearing a life that does not quite belong to me. I am the round peg being forced into a triangular hole.

Nothing in my current life feels comfortable. My mind and my spirit are in one place and my flesh and circumstances are in another. I liken it to a baby who knows (feels) they can walk, wants to walk, but their body is limited to something different.

I feel travel, I feel financial security, I feel loving relationship, I feel healthy body, I feel enjoyable career, I feel freedom, I feel wisdom, I feel happiness….at any given moment my spirit and mind leave the “building” and I am tortured by being physically stuck in a place that does not feel comfortable and by being mentally stuck in a place where I need to be.

Upon explaining this predicament which makes me seem like a great candidate for medication, my friend calmly took it all in and simply said “Your spirit and your mind have transcended the transition while your flesh and your circumstances are playing catch up.”

Deep, right? Yea…I know. I was speechless too. It made perfect sense. My spirit and my mind are finally on one accord and they have moved past this holding pattern in which my flesh and my circumstances are apparently stuck.  It makes me feel better to know that I am not losing it, but the knowing then begs the question: What do I do about it? “You are going to have to be patient, keep moving forward and working toward catching up,” she said.

~SM

Restless and Waiting

I feel like I am going effing batty. I have this fireball of energy swirling around in my belly with no where to deposit it. Of course I could try to run it away or clean it away, but this is the type of energy that does not require physical activity. It is that burning desire for more…the more.

I sit at my desk and I can feel the vibration of doing something outside of filing or typing or answering phones. The ease of life…the light of a life that I can see but not touch is driving me insane! When I am outside or traveling or at home or relaxing bookshelf side or soaking up the Starbucks ambiance I feel….free.  Free…not bottled up or hindered or held back or imprisoned. I feel breath and peace and light and airy.

I ask friends and family but no one can really tell me what to do. I pray, but the answers are obviously escaping me. I write and read and draw and color and sing and dance and eat and search yet nothing comes. Is my soul in on something my brain has no clue about? Is there some big thing happening behind the scenes?

I am restless. Restless, restless. There is more out there and whatever it is it’s just for me but I can’t touch it or taste it or see it–I can only feel it.  It almost feels like being a kid a week before Christmas. Presents are scattered under the tree making room for more to come. There are big boxes, small boxes, pretty paper and bows–all with your name on it. What are they? What’s in them? If you touch them or even look like you want to, you are liable to get into trouble–so you sit…you stare…you wait….I suppose this is my week before Christmas and all I can do is sit….stare….and wait. Ugh.

~SM