On the Impossibility of Ever Getting Enough Done

Lately I’ve had whole days without my guy, who got a union dispatch(job)  that has  lasted 3 whole weeks and hasn’t ended. This hasn’t happened EVER. He has money. He gets himself up and makes his own “mood cure” breakfast at 4 am, and gets himself to work without me having to even wake up. After years of his endless dependence on me, this is a taste of freedom I can hardly believe is really happening. But it is.  I’ve invested in this development with everything I have for over 13 years never knowing if it would occur. I don’t dare even think about whether it will last or hold because I’ve had to live outside of being attached to whether or not it would happen for a very, very long time.

Not surprisingly his being gone to work for 3 weeks consistently was not something my inner self was able to grasp after so many years of nothing ever lasting.  And what has happened is that I have come up against his stand in: My own inner tyrant. It’s a part that never relaxes, never allows me to feel I’ve done enough or can do enough. It’s weird to discover how insane this inner tyrant is and not have my guy  carrying it for me. I’d love to depose that tyrant, but I know I can’t without losing what little consciousness I can sustain and having something worse take it’s place.

Yesterday I had women friends over for a little summer solstice brunch and fire at my home, which finally feels like it’s good enough for company after so many years of it being a black hole with an antisocial ogre living there. I tried to be organized and failed, but my friends patiently hung out while I messed up the kitchen cooking breakfast and they made the fire out in the back in the Weber.  Everyone including me seemed to have a lovely time. When they left, I could hardly believe how good it was and how hard it was for me to fully accept that it had finally happened the way I’ve been longing for it to for years.  I let myself sort of collapse and briefly feel a great sadness and confusion over it happening.

I experienced anxiety over dropping out of my usual mode, which is focused on constantly trying to keep my house minimally orderly and making sure it’s ready for the always imminent return of the male unit.  During this 3 weeks I haven’t missed the chronic carping and unhappiness of my guy at all.  I live as though he’s never said a negative word to me for eternity because the only way I’ve been able to cope with that is forget it all as soon as I can.  It is so corrosive I’ve had to fashion a conclusive sort of immunity to nullify it, but god how I’d like to live without it for good. Because the real cost of that immunity is not feeling, not being fully alive at all, but retracted into a singular, focused and solitary life of constant emotional  restriction  that becomes habit. And that habit, though so useful in life, is a kind of living death, a partial mummification of self I no longer want.  We  forget that which we bury for too long.

 

 

 

About Shirley

I started this blog to expand and explore my rhythm horizons as a hand drummer. That exploration includes touching on the rest of my life and inner world as authentically and truthfully as possible.
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