• Yesterday morning, I was feeling all sparkly and light.
• This morning, I woke up in dark, stormy impotence.

The moment has clung to me – I am short tempered, everyone with whom I’m interacting is clearly an idiot, I’m outraged that I’m not a trust-afarian, and I feel fat.

God, how I hate when I get like this, particularly as I rarely know what triggers it. I’d blame it on PMS except today’s calendar doesn’t support that theory. It would be convenient to blame my mood on the barista who forgot my order or the assistant who decided to take a vacation day or the friend who made other plans for this evening or the colleague who is being particularly persnickety… but, truthfully, none of them is to blame.

Other people are rarely the root cause of a funk.

When I take a moment, to be still, to breathe, to listen to the roiling, boiling, coiling chaos of emotion within me, the answer is simple and clear.

I’m lonely.

A snippet of lyric jumped out at me this morning – “the thrill of loneliness” – and I thought:

NO. There is no THRILL to loneliness.

There is a thrill to be found in alone-ness. The joy of being complete with oneself, at the top of a mountain surrounded by nothing but the elements or sitting in quiet contemplation, alone. But loneliness has no kinetic energy. It is a yawning tightness that stretches and shrinks the soul, slowly weakening the structure of our lives. And it is, frequently, completely unaffected by the presence, or lack thereof, of others.

In plain ole English… it sucks.

Writing. Sleeping. Laughing. Fucking. Running.

These remedies can sometimes help medicate it. I should be able to draw up a prescription for at least a few of those in the next 24 hours. I’ll work on the rest.

What do you do when you are feeling lonely?

by Camino Z / flickr

In fact, as minute after minute ticks by without a ray of bright sunlight reaching me, I become more filled with inexplicable rage. I feel increasingly claustrophobic. Human beings morph into screaming hyenas. I transform into a banshee.

by Elizabeth The Queen Of All Things / flickr

There is a reason I moved to Sunny So Cal. FOR THE SUN!!!

Somebody. Please. Do. Something. About. This.

by aphotoshooter/flickr

I’ve been very silent for the past week or so, both online and off. I don’t know what it’s about, really. I simply get hit by a wave of exhaustion when I think about… thinking, much less talking or writing. I’d love to blame it on the June Gloom that descends upon Los Angeles at this time of year, or an incredibly busy schedule, or an epic natural disaster but, alas, none of those hold up to scrutiny, or even a side glance. And since I have no idea what’s causing this current phase of misanthropy, I’m not sure what to do to get out of it. Which is why I’m now purging on the page.

Not that I’m expecting you to sift through my bile or trudge along as I write myself out of the vagueness– or actually, that’s exactly what I’m asking of you.

If you’ve been around here a bit, you know that I spent most of 2009 in tears. The tears stopped in 2010 and I thought:

WHOOPPEE!
I’m done.
I never have to feel sad again.
Everything will now fall magically into place.
I deserve a fairytale ending, THANK YOU VERY MUCH!
Oh, and look, there’s some chocolate.
Let me eat THAT for breakfast, lunch AND dinner…

And down the rabbit hole I went…

Have I ever mentioned that I use food like others use alcohol or heroine? Not in the recreational use kind of way, no. That wouldn’t be so bad. In fact, there’s a twisted sexiness to that use of addictive substances. Or at least I’d be skinnier.

But no.

Instead I (choose?) to use food because I frequently feel like my head screams a version of the following:

CHECK ME OUT OF THIS EMOTION THING NOW – I DON’T LIKE IT -  I DON’T KNOW WHAT I’M DOING – WHAT AM I DOING – MY LIFE IS UNMANAGEABLE – OH MY GOD THE DISHES ARE DIRTY AGAIN – WHERE IS THE GODDAMN KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOUR – THERE’S MOLD IN MY BATHROOM – HOW DOES EVERYONE ELSE KNOW HOW TO NAVIGATE EXISTENCE – WHY AM I NOT FAMOUS AND BEING FED SEEDLESS GREEN GRAPES – I WILL BE A SINGLE, CAT LADY FOREVER – I AM MORE PATHETIC THAN THE ROTTING TURD ON A DEAD CORPSE IN THE RAIN – THE WORLD IS FULL OF IDIOTS – EVERYTHING WOULD BE BETTER IF I CONTROLLED THE WORLD – PLEASE DON’T MAKE ME MAKE A DECISION – MY BRAIN IS A HAMSTER WHEEL SPINNING SPINNING SPINNING – PLEASE STOP AND SHUT THE FUCK UP NOW

Consistent consumption of food has worked better than any Bose silencing headphones to reduce the chatter. Of course, it also silences everything else. Not so good.

There’s a saying in 12 Step rooms that you know if someone is an addict when she calls 9-1-1 after breaking a nail. I wish I could say that was an exaggeration.

Laundry piles defeat me. Dirty tubs defeat me. Wardrobe decisions defeat me. People defeat me.

I’ve been known to binge on snap peas, for crap-sake.

About seven years ago, I got help. I was tired of avoiding birthday parties because of an overwhelming sense that I would ruin the event by showing up and being fat. I hated the shame of broken promises to myself about things I would or wouldn’t eat, activities I would or wouldn’t do. I’d started hiding food even when no one was around from whom I needed to hide anything. I was done with feeling entirely hopeless and helpless.

Then, things got better. So very, very much better.

But now, I find myself once again looking at invitations with dread, breaking promises to myself, not showing up for others in the ways I wish. I am a turtle shrinking into my shell.

by littleREDelf / flickr

This is familiar terrain on which I tread, but I have NO INTEREST in taking routes already walked.

My heart is that of an explorer.

So I’m lifting up my machete, with this purge of words, and stepping into the wilderness once again. I’m scared and uncomfortable and already doubting the sense of leaving behind the comfort of isolation and silence.

BREATHE DEEP. Off I go…

by jalalspages/flickr

I came home last night and lit a candle, not one of the nice ones but rather the battered, shapeless ones that has melted irregularly and is near its end. I didn’t light it with any ritual in mind. I wasn’t mourning anything, per se. Nor was I celebrating anything. I simply needed AIR and LIGHT.

It was a crappy day, you see. One in which I was consistently disappointed in myself.

Do you ever have those moments where you step back and think:

Is this really who I am? Is this really who I’ve become? Where is the fight, the moxie, the exuberance? And how did it disappear without me even noticing?

I had one of those moments yesterday. Actually, it was more like a string of moments that made up my entire Monday.

I certainly admire the efficiency of my brain to just stick with one genre – DEFEATIST CRAPOLA.

By the time I got home at dusk, I’d had enough. So I lit a candle.

And you know what? Lighting that candle did not result in the Old Spice man arriving on my doorstep.

It did not illuminate my future. It did not change my past.

But as the flame danced around in search of oxygen, I found some as well.

What amazing power a deep breath contains, don’t you think?

I took one.

Don’t you want to take one too?

xo

Feeling Prickly

Do you ever just have one of those days when you find yourself feeling prickly for no apparent reason? The symptoms are pretty obvious. The line to get coffee seems intolerably long. The road is full of idiot drivers who wouldn’t know what a gas pedal was if it hit them in the ass. The office internet hook-up has mysteriously reverted to dial-up speed. The cute guy’s choice to wait for another elevator is proof you will be the reason “spinster” never gets removed from Miriam-Webster’s English Dictionary, even if the dictionary itself stops being published as a book. The world is full of sharp edges, and you seem to accidentally ram into one with every step you take. Here’s just a little reminder that the easiest way to smooth things out again, without resorting to addictive substances, is to STOP, breathe, and take a big ole pleasurable whiff of the proverbial roses. Oh, and getting more than two hours of sleep can’t hurt… Here’s to your week having lots of rounded corners and very few prickly moments.