Never Cut What You Can Untie

I've been in a twisted, complicated, knotted up state for the past couple days. I don't know what I want -- I'm restless and twitchy and don't want to sit still. I simultaneously want to dig into the earth with my bare hands, rending root and stone to give way to the life I wish to plant, while also wanting to run -- run far and fast and never stop, not for anyone or anything, until I have swallowed the sun with my running and leaping.

I feel disconnected and without inspiration. I feel a slave to my impulses, and when the rational part of me locks down and says no, we are not going to eat all of that food or spend all of that money, I feel caged and restless. So the smaller things go undone, like going to the gym or wiping down the kitchen before I go to bed.

I understand all the disparate parts that have caused this feeling. I know that the health issue, the stress about the health issue, and the complete and utter frustration that there is literally nothing in my power that I can do about it until my goddamn appointment in two weeks has caused this terrible whirlwind inside. I am trying to be patient. I am trying to sit back and wait for them to approve the surgery. I am trying.

I want to tear the sky open with tooth and claw for all my trying.

I am restless and frightened and full of rage. I can't help but feel that this whole issue is being mismanaged -- that saying "oh, you have this cyst the size of a baseball that is causing you extreme pain but we're just gonna see if it ruptures" is dangerous. They told me I could go into shock if it ruptures. They told me that I could get very sick if it ruptures. They told me that I'll know it if it does, and that I should go to a hospital immediately. But they're not going to schedule surgery for six goddamn weeks just to see if it'll rupture.

I am restless and frightened and full of rage.

But I'm trying.

Once More, With Feeling

Back in November I started taking SAM-e (S-Adenosyl Methionine) for depression. I didn't want to jump right in to higher dosages without leading up to it, but eased in gently. The 200mg helped keep my head above the water, but I didn't feel any groundbreaking differences -- the amazing sun-shining, birds-singing cheeriness I was expecting and hoping for never came, but it did help.

A couple weeks ago I upped my intake to 400mg a day. Again, nothing groundbreaking and I didn't feel much of a difference at first. 

A few weeks passed. Then one day I found myself encountering something I haven't felt in at least a decade: envy. Real, true, knee-jerk envy. Friends going to Japan, people going out and having a blast with a group of people -- things that didn't really mean anything to me before and didn't inspire any response suddenly filled me with this feeling I was really unequipped to handle. Why was I suddenly invested in learning every detail about a trip? Why was I suddenly feeling like it wasn't fair that those people had found their tribe and I hadn't? I'd always scoffed when people talked about FOMO -- fear of missing out -- but I never actually understood what it meant.

And then other feelings started showing up, like someone slowly started turning up the color saturation on what I thought was a black and white movie. Pride in my work -- real pride, not just "woo, I did the thing, hurray" -- and hints of joy. A renewed interest in things that I just couldn't bring myself to continue caring about before. Hints of passion for life that I'd nearly forgotten was possible. 

Equilibrium, if you haven't seen it, portrays this feeling pretty well

Quietly, hidden behind the rest, was an interest in what the future might hold. My future, not just the future of the company or the future of a project. I found that I cared about what my future will bring, what it will look like, and how I'll get there. I realize that this sounds absurd for most, but when you live in the headspace where everything you do requires energy you don't have, spending what you haven't got to think about something you aren't sure will happen is a luxury you can't afford. 

I'm not saying everything is suddenly technicolor rainbows of feeling. It's more like I've been living underground for as long as I can remember and somewhere, someone has cracked the seal off the door and let a breeze in. I'm not sure what to do with myself, but it's beautiful.