Tuesday, December 30, 2008
It's what I've always done. In times of great-freaking-out, I turn inward. I tell you I am fine and I retreat. I stop writing, talking, commenting (have you noticed yes you have).
Because I've done this to myself. No one is making me move to the jungle. But with less than three weeks at the only job I've really ever known, while packing up so much and taking so very little, trying to stay calm and present while ordering mosquito netting or cancelling subscriptions or unrolling canvas from frames or figuring out how to sell my car or you know, hey, any number of things.
I've never been good at asking for help. If you ask me I will say I am fine. Because I'm also terribly excited and life is really good. Because we have no idea what we are doing and because we have a semi-decent plan. Because I don't know what else to do so I do nothing because everything is done and there's so much left to do. Because being quiet is easier. Because I want to drive off down a highway alone for hours on end. Because I am a chicken. Because I am brave. Because I am both at a loss and full of myself.
So this is what I've always done. Radio silence interspersed with hey everything is fine. Liar, liar pants on fire but if no one is looking does it really count? How will you know if I don't tell you. Saying it aloud makes it so. I am both amazon and little person. I am purple. I am circular. I am. Still here.
Because this is what I do.