Feelings, man. I’m gonna talk about feelings today.
Remember in high school biology, where you had to cut open the worm or whatever and pin its skin back so all its guts were hanging out? Yeah, that’s about where I’m at today, emotionally.
Why, you ask? Why the angst, for someone normally so *ahem* clear-headed and rational?
It’s been a hell of a week.
My emotions have been running a little high lately anyway, I’ll admit. A former flame has rather unexpectedly made a reappearance in my life, tossing around the ol’ L-word and scrounging up old aches and pains and generally leaving me feeling a little raw. And feeling a bit too old for the dramatic times of my youth. And causing me to fear that perhaps I’m not entirely over my last involvement, which was a long-distance thing and tragically doomed from the outset by no fault of either party, which makes it so much crappier than if you just hate each other’s guts.
And speaking of aches and pains…. In an incident of calculated recklessness, the nature of which will not be disclosed here because my boss is already wary of my extreme lifestyle and I really don’t need to egg her on – I somehow managed to dislocate my knee. (Did you know that it makes a noise like a gunshot if you do it right?) I’m healing nicely, I suppose, but, well, it was a rough few days and I’m still not entirely sure I shouldn’t have taken more than four days off in regard to working out…given the strange spongy squishiness which seems to be occurring in the joint when I run, despite its radioactive-material-quality wrappings.
This follows a recent death-scare where I decided one of my cats absolutely was showing signs of the kidney disease that killed her brother a few years ago. (I am strangely neurotic about animals, given my nonchalance about human injury. You may have noticed this.) With Balloons (the cat) on the threshold of death, I resolutely drove her to the vet clinic, pulling over periodically to wipe the torrent of tears streaming down my face and to poke my fingers through the bars of the cat carrier to give her nose what was surely one last stroke.
Two hundred and thirteen dollars later and after every conceivable test available, I had a very miserable feline and a firm diagnosis of Human Worrywart. The drive home was decidedly anticlimactic. The cat didn’t speak to me for several days.
Then I saw a photo and write-up in the paper of the son of my last live-in boyfriend – a little boy with whom I bonded pretty hard, but haven’t seen since his dad and I broke up and they moved away. He was nine the last time I saw him. Somehow he’s morphed into this big handsome grown-up teenager who speaks in articulate sensible sentences totally devoid of anything Harry Potter or Spiderman and I have no idea how it happened, but I can’t wrap my head around it. I’m nearly certain it has nothing to do with my own mortality issues or my own immaturity.
And the kicker – are you ready for this? I mean, I don’t think your heartstrings are nearly as worn out as mine yet, because really, none of that other stuff really means anything to anyone but me. But this one will get you. Oh, yes, of that I am certain.
Yesterday I limped out to my mailbox and found a letter telling me that the little girl in Africa that I’ve sponsored for the past six years has disappeared and that it is “very sad and unexpected” but the charity organization cannot locate her or her family anywhere. I mean, what do I do? If this was a movie, I would heroically fly to Ghana and start tearing the place apart until I rescued the child and her family from whatever certain horrors had befallen them…but this being me – in reality, I would probably get there and find out that some distant relative had won the lottery and they had relocated to the Bahamas or something. (Remember the cat story. *see above*) Oh, my heart is riding the roller-coaster this week, oh, boy, yes it is!
A good stiff breeze is all it would take to send me bawling into my pillow right now, I swear to god. But maybe a good stiff drink would be a quieter choice.
I mean, seriously. Come on, Universe. If you wanted to kick me in the balls this hard, you might have thought to have given me some.