which came first...
the zen or the calm?
I knew that I didn't really scream. At least, I mostly don't even breathe on roller coasters and certainly don't scream. How that related to being vocal in bed, I'm not sure, but in general, I don't scream. Now I know that I don't yell either.
There are some times when yelling is somewhat appropriate, at least in theory. But I haven't yelled. I've cried in frustration and anger. It's usually those silent, eerie tears. Is it the balanced coin? The fact that I am rarely, if ever, giddy?
Recently, I grabbed a new style sheet for this journal. It seems pretty zen to me. And I've been looking at bamboo and zen designs for the nursery mural that I intend to paint once the nursery is devoid of the library.
Did the new appreciation come from an impending calm, or did the calm come from an appreciation of the zen? Or is it all some shiny new form of depression? resignment? giving up? not caring anymore?
When my husband did two unforgivable things in one day, I didn't yell. I did cry. I did wake up at 3 am and start unpacking the crib. I ate a little bowl of cereal and proceeded to pass out at 4 am.
He seemed very surprised that I gave him a kiss goodbye today. Given that I asked him to leave the house repeatedly between 8 pm and 4 am, I can see why. But what has broken that I'm not even crying anymore? He used to frustrate me. I'd cry. Heck, once or twice I even sobbed.
Maybe I'm just tired, but I really think there is something more going on here. Maybe something cosmic. Maybe the impending apocalypse in 2012 makes it all moot.
Of course, hand in hand with my calm is the fire that seems to have ben lit under his ass. He actually got up and did things this morning. And I just shrug. It's not the first time I've tried to kick him out. (He doesn't go.) It's not the first time he's been motivated for an hour.
I would change the locks, but really, what's the point? He'll do enough to meet my requirements/expectations, come back, and it'll all start again. Heck, maybe this time it'll stick. Maybe this time he's found a reason to stay off his ass... and not be an ass.
But who cares?
All I can do is what I can do. And what I can do is build a crib and paint a nursery.
Oh and, on the bright side, whatever is broken in me is completely broken. I am no longer frustrated by the impossible work situation. It just is. I have done what I can. They will do what they do.
I knew that I didn't really scream. At least, I mostly don't even breathe on roller coasters and certainly don't scream. How that related to being vocal in bed, I'm not sure, but in general, I don't scream. Now I know that I don't yell either.
There are some times when yelling is somewhat appropriate, at least in theory. But I haven't yelled. I've cried in frustration and anger. It's usually those silent, eerie tears. Is it the balanced coin? The fact that I am rarely, if ever, giddy?
Recently, I grabbed a new style sheet for this journal. It seems pretty zen to me. And I've been looking at bamboo and zen designs for the nursery mural that I intend to paint once the nursery is devoid of the library.
Did the new appreciation come from an impending calm, or did the calm come from an appreciation of the zen? Or is it all some shiny new form of depression? resignment? giving up? not caring anymore?
When my husband did two unforgivable things in one day, I didn't yell. I did cry. I did wake up at 3 am and start unpacking the crib. I ate a little bowl of cereal and proceeded to pass out at 4 am.
He seemed very surprised that I gave him a kiss goodbye today. Given that I asked him to leave the house repeatedly between 8 pm and 4 am, I can see why. But what has broken that I'm not even crying anymore? He used to frustrate me. I'd cry. Heck, once or twice I even sobbed.
Maybe I'm just tired, but I really think there is something more going on here. Maybe something cosmic. Maybe the impending apocalypse in 2012 makes it all moot.
Of course, hand in hand with my calm is the fire that seems to have ben lit under his ass. He actually got up and did things this morning. And I just shrug. It's not the first time I've tried to kick him out. (He doesn't go.) It's not the first time he's been motivated for an hour.
I would change the locks, but really, what's the point? He'll do enough to meet my requirements/expectations, come back, and it'll all start again. Heck, maybe this time it'll stick. Maybe this time he's found a reason to stay off his ass... and not be an ass.
But who cares?
All I can do is what I can do. And what I can do is build a crib and paint a nursery.
Oh and, on the bright side, whatever is broken in me is completely broken. I am no longer frustrated by the impossible work situation. It just is. I have done what I can. They will do what they do.