it’s funny but actually achingly depressing how we have to let parts of ourselves die in this old world, all the time.  and not just bad parts, or parts that need to be changed to live in harmony with our new world standards, but good parts.  creative parts.  the dreaming, full of life and love parts.  the parts that believe in the way things should be but can’t comprehend the reality of the way things are.

and i think one of the worst things i have experienced at 30 is waking up to the realization of what this heavy word adult really means, all of things i thought it would mean that it actually doesn’t, and the things i thought it wouldn’t mean that it actually does.

because i didn’t really think about what the reality of it would be like, as i never had much of a habit of being realistic about the future when it comes to feelings.  kind of like, i had an idea of what it would entail but i didn’t think i would feel the way i do about it. feel feel always feelings and the very part of myself i used to take pride in i now loathe. 

too many feelings.

it wouldn’t matter if things were always good, because then the amount of feelings i have would lift me up like a hot air balloon and take me soaring into the clouds.  but they’re not and therefore it does, if you see what i mean.  and so my heart feels like a feelings magnifying glass and my brain feels like the ant being burned on the concrete under the heat of the concentrated beam, only i don’t vanish in a black char of smoke because this heat is too

i n v i s i b l e.

and i didn't realize adult would mean waking up at 5:00am every morning or spending the majority of my life sitting and staring at a computer screen, immobile save my fingers and hands and eyes that forever scanscanlookscanscanscrollscan and a mind like a maelstrom trapped in the smallest of glass bottles.

i did not think it would be sitting in a sales meeting listening to a speech about how important it is to be an optimist and how everyone needs to see the glass half full and wondering in my head how optimism can be so easily obtained with what’s going on every moment in every corner of the world, and how can someone be so oblivious to it?

but what i really knew it would mean but never wanted to accept is that it would be putting away the dreamy ideals of my youth; what i didn’t know it would mean would be actually reaching a point when doing so is the only option for my emotional and mental survival. i didn’t realize i would have to claw through the dirt of my negative thoughts daily and who knew what a liability it would be to feel so much? except my mother knew because she is the logical one and i’m not like her i think about things different but maybe there was a time when she did, too.  and maybe what the harshness of life taught her was that feelings need to be put away for the sake of sanity.

she told me yesterday that it wasn’t that they were gone forever, just temporarily suppressed.

and maybe that is what it means to be an adult.  burying pieces of your true self, the vulnerable pieces and the extraneous pieces that you can no longer use as tools to wage war against reality, the parts that shine so bright but attract predators in the darkness of the forest, the things that bring you warmth but are too bulky to wear when you’re trying to snake your way through brambles and thickets because they keep getting snagged and being dragged backwards is dangerous when you’re running from something big and scary.

and if i was an optimist i would feel like a strong, battle-hardened warrior, but i’m not. 

i’m not really sure why this is or why i am noticing it or even if it is a thing to be noticed, because it’s not like i have never experienced this before.  but the memories are deep and peaceful and contrast so starkly to the daily chaos of my mind that they feel more powerful than usual. stronger.  nostalgically depressing and joyful at the same time.

yesterday i drove over the jagged edges of semi-fresh roadwork, the kind where they gut the street and then cover it over with big metal plates that make your car tilt unevenly as you drive over it, the pebbles of crumbling asphalt crunching as they’re catapulted into the undercarriage of your vehicle.  and through the ducts of the air filter and siphoned in through the air conditioning unit of my jeep, this scent blasted on a cold air jet stream into my nose and i was instantly whisked into the past 20 years. 

asphalt.

the smell of asphalt.

and in my mind i was a kid again, sitting on the hot blacktop of the playground and playing.  when i would get up there would be tiny rocks embedded in my legs that i would brush off, and i would be thinking about made up fantasy worlds in my head and maybe lunch time or what reading group i was going to get put into that day.  i would be anticipating the bell ringing when the day was done and walking across the street to my house and trudging up the stairs.  my mom would be vacuuming or cleaning while listening to 90s country on the radio and i would toss my backpack on the floor even though i know she would instantly tell me to put it in my room.

and what i wasn’t thinking about was my weight and mental illness and how fast my paycheck would be gone as soon as i deposited it into the bank.  i would have no clue what it felt like to be tired all the time no matter how much sleep i got, or the feeling of waking up everyday at 5 am to spend 8 hours staring at a computer screen in an office building close to the Mexican border and away from civilization.  my mind would not have been plagued or weighted or verging on the edge of insanity and i would have nothing on my agenda for the rest of the day besides watching the Lion King and maybe reading a book or coloring or playing or doing something enjoyable and free and not being an adult.

and i know the way of all things is to grow up and i know it must be what it must be, but wouldn’t it be nice if we could keep the happy feelings of childhood and get the perks of being an adult without all the exhaustion that comes with it?  and maybe it’s only me and i wish i was different and it was easier and happy and that i was more resilient and positive and that my glass was always half full but i’ve been running on empty for longer than i can remember.

all i know is, i breathed in deeply through my nose at that moment and held on to the smell for as long as it would last.

the funny thing is that my intentions were to write about my weight or mental illness or something else i battle with that i wanted to get my mind off of and needed to write about to do so.  and somehow what it all boils down to today is missing the asphalt.

"Is not this a true autumn day? Just the still melancholy that I love—that makes life and nature harmonize." - George Eliot

sometimes i feel like my brain is Moonlight Sonata: tragically sad but beautiful, in spite of--or because of--the gloominess of it all.  i’m typing in the dark and listening to the melody float over me like a foggy blanket of despair that somehow makes me feel better, and he’s still there.  hiding in the dark.  the crate open, faint panting sounds, his own personal lair like the Phantom concealed below the opera house.

i didn’t think it would evoke so much emotion in me, especially not negative emotions.  i imagined all of the good things.  i projected a movie onto a blank canvas that featured joyous cut scenes of a girl and her dog.  i saw us hiking in the mountains and longed to remember the feeling of having an animal companion.  i remembered nights with my old best friend in the backyard by the pool, lounging next to a fire, his silver white fur cast with an orange glow as shadows danced over his paws.  and i thought that that feeling was what would dominate this new adventure.

and then i woke up in the morning feeling a dread of walking into the living room, his existence a reminder of my panic, my anxiety, my high sensitivity, my pervasive and continuous feeling that i. am. not. normal. i don’t think i’ve felt that feeling since my first day moving into a new studio with my husband, on my own for the first time, having to truly be responsible for the first time at 29.  and the realization that this is really my reaction? only added to the maelstrom of emotions, with my own self-condemning mind flogging me as if i wasn’t already down for the count.

and really it’s my impatience, but i just want him to love me and to feel like everything is going to be okay.

my Pandora channel changes to Claire de Lune and for a second, i feel hopeful.  and sometimes i wonder if the biggest problem isn’t the emotions i have but the fear that i am the only one experiencing them in the entire universe, and who could ever identify with me?  sometimes i wish everyone could spill their guts about all of their worst fears so i wouldn’t

feel

     so

best day ever ♥