Nannie’s hydrangeas are coming out this morning because I’m in a “blah” mood.
Today’s a kind of day where I’m sitting at home waiting for the things I have to do today, listening to old, sad love songs and reliving bittersweet memories.
The good news is that I do this to myself far, far less often than I did 5 years ago.
November Man has been on my mind over the last few days as I’ve started writing about him in the memoir. It’s ridiculous…curiosity always kills the cat, but I’m curious as to how he’s doing. Not that there were ever more than one-line messages from him or real depth of feeling shown on his part on more than a handful of occasions during the 10 years we were friends. And I take silence for the past couple of years to mean that the friendship is over. I chalk him up to one of the folks who just can’t stomach being friends with the mentally ill. For his part, I think it’s out of the fears of the demons inside himself…for years I thought it was me, but now I suspect it’s him. I suspect he’s busy burying himself in work, as that took the place of real love in his life long ago. I hope I’m wrong and that he’s got a full personal life.
I’m jaded, not at all the soft romantic I was years ago.
You know what? I’m also done simply being an illness. I’m much more colorful than that simple categorical label. I know for sure what combination of things triggered this mood. I know what I can do to bring myself out of it and I know it doesn’t take a pill to do that. I’m ready to think more of myself. I’m also ready to write more about life and less about bellyaching over some health issue or other. I’m human and despite my willingness to share my health issues in the past here, I’m ready to pull back on that a little bit. It’s time to be a regular person.
It’s also time to get out of the house, do some crochet, and be among friends. It’s also time to remember my own rock.
There. Instantly better.