I told Lindsey I'd start keeping track of my moods throughout the day, so we can tell if there's any kind of pattern to them: what's grief, what might be breakthrough depression, etc. I'm supposed to take it in next week. I have a feeling it'll look something like this:
Tuesday: Decided not to give a crap about anything and checked out of conscious thought: slept most of the day.
Wednesday: Tried to check out of conscious thought, but started worrying about winter with nothing to do and had a panic attack instead.
This moody deal is oh-so-lovely.
Thing is, I'm alright when I'm busy. I have my finger in a lot of pies right now for that very reason: there's the part-time bookkeeping, volunteering for the United Way, and trying to sponsor 25 posters for $5 apiece for Childhelp/Wings of Hope before the end of the month, which I have discovered is more difficult than it sounds. And I'd take on a couple more pies if I could find them, but then I'd run the risk of overwhelming myself and being moody for entirely different reasons. I do not handle stress well. I'm not handling much well at this particular moment.
This weekend was great: I went with Mama and Dad to Papa Bernard's farm in Slatington. I finally got over my nerves and actually started calling him "Papa," and the world didn't end. There wasn't even a minor earthquake. He just accepted it; no explanation needed. (Due to what happened right before I left Indiana, I have arguments with myself before I dub someone honorary family. I'm secretly very afraid of getting turned aside, hence the reason it took me nearly 7 years to seize the opportunity for a grandparent who lives in the same state.)
I learned how to use an apple picker this weekend, and discovered that picking tomatoes out of the garden -- particularly the smaller varieties, like cherry and grape -- is actually rather fun in a treasure-hunting sort of way. I had no less than 3 excellent, home-cooked meals, and opened a gateway to good childhood memories with all those dogs and rabbits and chickens. Papa B. even let me ride in the back of the pickup when we went to check the sunflowers and squash, though getting me in it took some doing on account of I'm not half as spry as I was when I was 10.
When we got home, I took myself down to the last day of the Regatta and spent way too much money, as usual: I got an oil burner I can't break this time, as it's made of tin, and 2 stretch bracelets from my usual booth: 3 summers back, I was at the Regatta looking for bracelets I could wear, but I can't clasp jewelry because of my hands and therefore can only wear things that stretch. I mentioned this to a lady who had a booth of beautiful jewelry, and on the spot she took apart my favorite piece, beaded it onto a stretch cord, and gave it to me for half price. She has since discovered a market for this type of jewelry and makes it routinely, and keeps back some of the prettiest ones for me to pick from every year. We keep an eye out for each other, now. I had my pulled-pork BBQ nachos and my funnel cake, and went home happy.
And then yesterday, I woke up with no plans. And it was raining. And I lost the button off one of my only good pairs of jeans. And I was facing another fruit-fly invasion. And I decelerated like it was the day after Christmas and went right back into my post-farm funk because I wasn't busy.
I tell you, sometimes I just don't know what to make of myself.
No comments:
Post a Comment