OK, so I’m told with a New Year new things should be on the horizon, or at least a plan for new or improved things. I’ve never actually been one to publicly state my New Year’s Resolutions since, in case I fail, no one can than remind me that I never lived up to it. It’s a self-preservation thing and, if you knew me better, I am all about self-preservation.
The trouble with that mentality is sometimes you become the only person on your island and despite what ‘Survivor’ has taught us, that’s not always a good thing.
The last quarter of 2012 was pretty rotten for me. I won’t bore you with the litanous details, but suffice it to say I have gotten pretty used to everything in my life going more or less as planned or, if not as planned, then I am definitely accustomed to being able to think my way around it or find a solution, sometimes ruthlessly, but always to my advantage.
That didn’t happen in the last quarter of 2012 and the events and repercussions of those events has left me feeling less than myself and, again, if you knew me, you’d know that part of what I like to call my “charm” is the fact that I am very much self-possessed. Instead, I find myself questioning my motives, my thoughts, my feelings and my own intelligence – all things I rely on every second of my existence. To not have those things guaranteed anymore is a bit daunting and, true to form, I still have the ability at least to pretend things are hunky-dory.
I don’t like sharing those uglier parts of my experiences with many people because, contrary to popular belief, I’m not trying to convince them I’m perfect or all-together, but rather I’m trying not to burden my friends and family with my drama. The most unsettling thing about the compounded events of the last quarter of 2012 is that I have had to share those experiences more than I would have preferred because I was simply unable to ignore them or push them aside where they wouldn’t be out there for everyone to see.
My friends right now are admonishing me for this as they read, and some part of me is laughing in complete sympathy with how they are feeling. I realize that I can be quite impossible. Impossibly charming? No? Fiiiiine. Somewhere along the line, I guess I just figured that I should be the one to remain constant. At some time I got the feeling that it was me everyone was relying on to be steady and faithful and unchanging. And, to be fair, for the most part I have been able to live up to that expectation, even so far as to have that expectation of myself.
What I’ve realized is that despite all evidence to the contrary, I am, in fact, only human and there are going to be days when I’m going to need to let the demons out of my own personal dungeon. And I think I have done that, but given that I’m new to this realm of thinking, I’ve not done so graciously. For that I must apologize to my friends and family who have had the misfortune of dealing with my recent rants, rages and well, poopy-headedness. I’m simply not familiar with this art of vulnerability. Certainly I’ve seen other people handle it with better form and grace than I ever could. If this were ice skating, you’d understand that where other people glide on top of the ice, I tend to chew through it, leaving a very deep groove to ensure that people would know I had been there, and with any luck, a groove deep enough to cause other people to trip and fall for my personal entertainment.
Anyway, what I’m really trying to say is a huge thank-you to my friends and family for still talking to me, still acknowledging I exist and for still including me in their worlds. For someone who fancies herself an amateur writer, I find it difficult sometimes to find the right words to express my gratitude. Suffice it to say, I am in your debt. I hope one day to be able to repay your kindness in some way. Thank you.