Thanks for seein' about a girl, friend. here's where I'm writing my own history—for you, for me and anyone else who needs to laugh to keep from cryin' every once in awhile.

Back atcha.

You know, I think describing someone as "thoughtful" is really one of the best affirmations you can bestow upon someone. In this fast world full of streaming tickers, ADD, sound bytes, ADHD and to-do lists a person who goes the extra mile to reach you or to make you feel a bit easier means a lot. Thoughtful people also inspire me. They don't audaciously challenge me to do or think differently; it's more like a subtle coaxing, a soft touch. Earlier someone offered me this:

"Things are only fragile 'til they break."

What does that mean to you? Call me a loser, but I take it to mean an acceptance of the inevitable failure of relationships and, in the end, our own bodies.

Well, firstly I have to say that I wonder if relationships fail, or do people fail the relationships? I'm tempted to believe the latter, and the same could to an extent be said of our bodies, too.

Anyhow, the key thing that stood out to me immediately was the word acceptance. Too often I catch myself trying to be too strong, too "on," not for keeping up appearances, but more for maintaining a hold over myself - control. This need for control was born out of my younger days when I was labeled as "sensitive" (instead of expressive perhaps?) and was constantly admonished for wearing my heart on my sleeve. I was told so many times to suck it up that I began to wish my upper lip wasn't so full - I thought it'd at least be easier to keep it stiff were it not so plush. Nevertheless, I scrounged around long enough to scrap together some modicums of control, for decency's sake.

I've been told too many times to "pick and choose my battles," but I've recently realized that that's a poor way for me to look at things. [Enter terrible cliche] I'm a lover, not a fighter. Some people have a spirit for fighting, for unrelenting assertion, but fighting battles takes too much out of me.

I think that there is a small window of time and/or space before things break where there's still a chance for me to stop pushing and just let go. I guess it's the fragile window, so I have to say I agree with the quote. You know, there was a window of time before I got sick that I could've used to fight the germs - but instead I had to go outside in the cold to get something that should've waited. There is always a window of space and time before my stress mounts; there's a moment when my inner sensor goes off and flashes a bail sign that I have a knack for ignoring. There's a moment everytime right before I say what I feel even when there's a chance I know I probably shouldn't say it. But because I have things to do, points to make, places to go, things to acquire I persist merely for the sake of persistence (as if I get any bonus life points for effort). I press on simply because, for the most part, I can. I mean, we're supposed to seize the day, right?

I really hate that phrase, and it disturbs me now to see that I am a part of my own hatred. (I am touching now on the quote from Hesse about hating a person means you hate something in him that's a part of yourself...)

At any rate, once the fragile window closes and things have broken, be it the body, spirit or a relationship, it's hard to make repairs. It's as if the paradox awakens and dares me to double up on the strength that is now depleted, and suddenly I'm back to fighting...

Thankfully on days like today (I was grumbling about the woes of job searching - again) I wake up to the sound of music and my mother, Margaret, speaks to me.  Speaking words of wisdom, she says, "Let it be." And as I murmured the serenity prayer to myself with enough fervor to fly in the face of accepting the things I cannot change, I laughed at myself. I can't spend my entire life fighting to be, because then I would always be fragile, right?

So let's say that for today, for once, I acknowledged that I'm too close to a breaking point. There's no use in choosing battles because I gave up the fight altogether and just accepted that what will be, will be. This is the season of hope and faith afterall.

Reese's pieces, part one

Morose & Bottled up.