Space

I am imagining the ideal, now. If I could make my life into whatever I wanted it to be at this moment, this is what it would look like. It would be very very quiet. Still. I imagine very vibrant grass. Grass and feet, and wind sounds, and maybe the soft buzz of traffic--of life around, maybe a slider door opening or closing. But no words. I imagine a very clean apartment, all white walls and wood floor. I imagine curling my knees into my chest in my rocking chair near a window and not having to talk my shoulders down--not having to make myself learn how to love who I am, how to accept any goodness, how to believe that it is okay for me to be fallible.

I wrote in the margin of some book recently that it is awful being a perfectionist who is so goddam imperfect. It is painful. It feels like suffering (while I write that, I feel guilty, because my brain is rushing into images of people who are truly suffering. And the next thought is: WOW, am I capable of not being hard on myself?)

I want my own apartment--my OWN--like nothing else in this world right now. I want it like a lover. I want it like something that's always there--by my side--available for me to fall into, fold into, find myself in. I want cleanliness and SPACE. Any space. Space for me. For my voice. Space for becoming new.

The past two days have brought that thought into focus as well. Becoming new. I need to be new. Fresh. I need to make who I am. I need to choose who I am. I think I have victimized myself so much lately. I feel victimized by my financial situations. I feel victimized by the job market. I blame everything. I feel strung out. I feel wound. And I am so depleted. But I also feel guilty. I know I'm to blame for the place I'm in. But, I also want to concede that it is hard. It is super hard to be everything you want to be, and to find a "real" job in this economy, and to change a lot of habits that you've functioned in for years and years and basically your entire life.

I want to be new, though. I want to stop feeling victimized or guilty. I want to start feeling in control--feeling vibrant--feeling energized. I want to want to be around people. I want to feel even remotely free.

And I really really would like to start engaging spirituality. I want to pray. I want to want to pray, and really open myself to the possibility that I am worth anything at all. I want to believe that God is the opposite of all of my skewed perceptions. I want to believe that he/she/it is trustworthy. I want to believe that there is a better plan, a better way than the one I've been on--the one that has me hopeless, dark, exhausted, and furious.

For example, I went nuts this morning because my dog puked on the floor. Seriously, if I were a parent right now, I would be terrified that I would go nuts, get angry, and my kids would become seriously anxious people like me, always waiting for the ax to fall. Just so you know...I did not even yell at my dog. I just wanted to. I wanted to scream and rip the curtains and stomp holes in the floor. And of course, anger is always indicative of something deeper. It wasn't the dog. It's this place I'm in. This scary, unpredictable, guilt-ridden, place I'm in.

I want to get out. I want it. I want respite and hope and light and silence and strength and time and space to fail and grow and heal and explore.

I want to not feel immature for it either. I don't think I want to run from the real world. I want to work hard. I want to care. I want to be active. But I want to stop running in circles. I want my brain to take on calmer waves. I want to make changes. I want to engage in whatever's beneath or above or invisibly active in this world.

May you all find hope and silence and time and lightness.



P.S. I had an interview this week. I'm trying desperately not to bank on this as my way out of crazyness.