"If ONLY this sink was a bubble bath...of vodka."
image courtesy of thegooddrswife
My Mom called me this afternoon on my walk home from school- a walk that was done in a literal and figurative black cloud.
"How was your day Melly?" she asked sweetly.
"Well. I peed on my scarf."
"Oh. So, bad then? One time I peed all over my underwear by accident and had to rip them off my body!" She then chirped: "You can even put that on your blog, if you'd like."
My day got marginally better after that.
The day, in truth, wasn't spectacular but it wasn't especially difficult either. I could not pinpoint the lingering feeling of listlessness that nestled in my gut like really bad deli food. (But I'll keep coming back EZ deli. I love you.) I tried to shake it, but couldn't. It was unfamiliar and haunting and I'd like to thank its bony fingers for steering me home toward brownies and not, as originally planned, to the gym. One hour after my pee conversation with my mother I sat in the bath, brownie and New Yorker in hand, and stewed.
I think people are afraid to make friends with their different moods and entertain them in a bubble bath. I mean, seriously. Think about the last time you were sad, or angry, or felt hopeless...you tried to shake it off, right? (like I had done earlier, but no pee jokes could pry me from this stranger's clutches.) We are trained to Pollyanna-ize our lives. (I made up that word! I'm a genius! And if you don't get the pop culture reference...I'm old!) We are taught it is bad to entertain feelings that are anything shy of complete rapture. Don't worry, be happy! Smile! Don't have a pity party!
Well, I had a pity party. I even invited it. I would have made monogrammed invitations to it if I could:
"Miserable afternoon musings. Please bring bubble bath clothes, chocolate, and OBVIOUSLY wine. RSVP now."
I entertained this bad mood and sat with it until my toes began to wrinkle and my brownie crumbled in the water and I had read the entire New Yorker....'s cartoon section.
I tried to get comfortable with my feelings instead of shoving them down deep inside. I'm tired of doing that. It's not being gentle to me, and by extension it is not being gentle to the people in my life. This was me putting on my big girl pants and dealing with whatever my hormones and my life were throwing my way. Except I wasn't wearing pants. I told you I was in the bath.
SO, the big reveal once I sat with my weird self for an hour or so was that I am completely lonely. I'm sad, I'm in the valley of this "wife experiment", I'm hearing so much noise from so many different people about 'how I should be handling this separation," and it caused me to bend a little bit today. Not break, bend.
And I made friends with that loneliness. And we sat there, split a brownie, (or I ate the whole thing very quickly,) and we got to know one another. And once he felt like I could come to terms with him, and even embrace him momentarily...he left.
And hope and happiness took his place.
So, it was a good day. Yes, I peed on my scarf, but now it seems funny and not so disgustingly tragic. (How does one pee on a scarf? That is around one's neck? I wish I could tell you, but I just...don't know.) What I do know is that, once and awhile, it is okay to settle in to your feelings and honor them for what they are, at that moment, for a little while. (Unless you are feeling homicidal...and if you are, you should maybe read a different blog.)
We should present this life with our very best side, but how can we ever know and embrace that side fully without making friends with all of the other parts of us? In order for me to love me completely, I have to love all aspects. The serious side. The angry side. The beer-drinking-through-a-straw-contest-winner-in-Mexico side. They are all there. They are all me.
And I'm happy with me, again.
Who can't be happy after a brownie bath?