That was kind of a wash, wasn't it?
That's sort of how I feel, looking at it from June. Not that I want to negate the good things that happened (irises, foster placements, and that random rainbow), but seriously, May, you threw some rather unwieldy wrenches into the mix, and I'm beginning to wonder what I have to do to make it stop. I don't think I can deal with another month like that, nor can my family or my marriage. Or, for that matter, my thesis, but that at least can be put on hold -- which is essentially what's happened for the last week, given the new chaos that erupted during that time. The situation's not bloggable yet, but suffice it to say that it's not pretty and will require some time to resolve.
So shape up, okay, 2010? These last few weeks haven't been representing you very well at all.
I've never been a willing roll-with-the-punches kind of girl, but I've done it out of necessity. That strategy is all that seems to be working in the short term these days. It's not sustainable, though. So I'm asking myself, what is?
I've asked that question for a while now, deciding to focus on small efforts, trying to push back without shoving -- because that doesn't work either, not with people, not with life. And I know I'm making mistakes, ones that make me want to give up trying because they cause frustration not only to me but to the people in my life. My husband, my sisters, my parents; the people who know me but don't know what to think of me or do with me in this state of flux as they too struggle with things like May. I'm tired; they're tired. And when I sense they're about to tire out, I back away, afraid they'll say, "Enough! Too much!" -- and leave. Which doesn't exactly help me with the learning process.
Give me the quotidian. Let me work with these challenges first, not the big ones that were May. I know; I don't really get to call these shots and May already happened. But I'm asking -- hell, begging -- whoever is in charge of the universe to cease and desist, or at the very least, dial down the intensity. Because no number of rainbows is going to help me make up the balance if it continues like this.
If I’m Not Writing, Am I Still a Writer?
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