Overcomplimacating
So there's this horrible black hot closet in my soul where I go sometimes to wallow in anguish and neurotically sleep. It's been there for most of my life. It isn't very pretty in there. I'm resolved that the closet is mine, as it is folly to deny it, and by acknowledging it loosen some of it's power over me. I spent all day Sunday in this metaphorical closet and, sure enough, it still sucks in there. At least I got some reading done.
By the time I dragged myself to yoga last night I was exhausted from wrestling with what I thought was the right thing, miserable from lack of appetite and interest in anything, sore from oversleeping and bored out of my skull with the closet. In yoga class this month we're looking at manomaya kosha, or the mental and emotional sheath of the body. What this meant for me last night was I threw open the door to the closet, shined a really bright light in there, and looked at the feelings that had led me back into this dark place. 'Hello, my little anguish,' I thought. 'Come here. I will take care of you.'
I decided that the path of action I had chosen was wrong and that I should do something nice for myself. I settled on my favorite food and my favorite people to eat food with, bit the bullet and called to ask him out. Twenty minutes later I was sharing whiskey with Iko and Don at Calamity Jane's with a plate of seared ahi and salad in one hand and spicy jerk chicken wings with pear sauce in the other, laughing and interested and happy. Voilà!
Silly Jenna. Cut free from moorings I think I panicked a little and, in my fear of said closet ended up running into it. This needn't be. We're the grownups now and we get to decide what that means, even (especially?) when the process means it is unpredictable and silly-- just make sure it is sincere.
By the time I dragged myself to yoga last night I was exhausted from wrestling with what I thought was the right thing, miserable from lack of appetite and interest in anything, sore from oversleeping and bored out of my skull with the closet. In yoga class this month we're looking at manomaya kosha, or the mental and emotional sheath of the body. What this meant for me last night was I threw open the door to the closet, shined a really bright light in there, and looked at the feelings that had led me back into this dark place. 'Hello, my little anguish,' I thought. 'Come here. I will take care of you.'
I decided that the path of action I had chosen was wrong and that I should do something nice for myself. I settled on my favorite food and my favorite people to eat food with, bit the bullet and called to ask him out. Twenty minutes later I was sharing whiskey with Iko and Don at Calamity Jane's with a plate of seared ahi and salad in one hand and spicy jerk chicken wings with pear sauce in the other, laughing and interested and happy. Voilà!
Silly Jenna. Cut free from moorings I think I panicked a little and, in my fear of said closet ended up running into it. This needn't be. We're the grownups now and we get to decide what that means, even (especially?) when the process means it is unpredictable and silly-- just make sure it is sincere.