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As I type this, I am feeling pretty good. I am listening to music and connecting to it in a way that I haven’t been able to do in a while. Unlike my previous posts, in which I discussed some of the difficulties life decided to throw at me this summer, this post will be more upbeat.

I am especially happy because I’ve been able to achieve my daily step goals these last two days for the first time in weeks? Months? I thought I had twisted or perhaps sprained my ankle and tried to take it easy, but it didn’t really get better. Ther another day I happened upon a description of Plantar Fasciitis and realized it sounds exactly like my issue (shooting pain and stiffness when waking up or after sitting down). I decided that trying some of those stretches won’t hurt even if that’s not my issue. It’s been only two days, but I already feel better. Not perfect but much better.

Since this pain started around the time I got some new shoes, I decided to buy a different style than I usually buy (it’s new shoe buying time, anyway). Hopefully, I’ll be at minimal pain and maximum mobility in no times. Which is good because I’m not digging this weight gain or my inability to play Ingress like a boss. Ha! The endorphins are also much needed after such a trying summer.

I no longer find myself crying (read: sobbing) all the time over my friend who passed. I will miss him forever and occasionally tear up, but I don’t feel the need to stay inside a blanket fort and avoid my life. He would appreciate me getting on with it, anyway. Part of this is because I have a house guest, and it’s a bit of a distraction.

My friend’s death really cast a pallor on all my other summer activities. Sure, I saw the eclipse, heard Adam Lambert + Queen in concert, enjoyed John Mulaney’s standup in person, had a story published in a zine that I have yet to open, visited a plethora of museums and traveled to or through nearly a dozen states.. but it all just paled in comparison. It was so difficult for me to enjoy the fact that I had done any of that.

It didn’t help that it all involved being in so many cars, trains or buses! While I will likely take at least three more road trips before the year wraps up, I had to slow down my pace so I wasn’t so exhausted and depressed.

Once I finish Halloween decor this week (boy, am I behind!), things in my life will begin to look more normal. I am going to pass up hosting my own party to save money and effort, but I am excited about my costume no matter where I wear it!

I’m even managing to catch up on writing reviews, entering giveaways, and email communications (including pitches to companies, which I haven’t done at all this year!).

But, first, I must hack some portals!

Just one form of strength

The thing about strength is that it doesn’t feel like strength when you’re in the middle of it. Everything feels all mixed-up and wrong. You’re certain that you’re doing the wrong thing and that irreparable harm will come of it. You’re sure that you’re going to lose your job or fuck up your kids are ruin a friendship that you previously thought was bulletproof.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like everything is terrible, but being strong doesn’t feel like strength. It feels like hell.

And it looks like it a little bit after you’re gotten through it. Because one day you’ll realize the worst part of that situation is over. You’ll look around, and you’ll see  the carnage from the landmines, but you’ll also realize that you’ve somehow manage to step on them as you made your way through the field. It’s a little amazing, not understand how you made it through.

It feels like relief. You can let your guard down and take a deep breath, let the tension out of your body.

Until, of course, you have to be strong again. You press on, but it feels like you won’t make it through. If you’re lucky — or if you’re smart — you’ll realize that you’ve been down a similar road before. The end is always just around a curve, even if that curve is terrifying. If you’re less lucky, you forget that you’re persevered before. You blunder forward, sure that this time will be the end of you.

But it’s not true. You will get through it. You do it time and time again because that’s what it means to be humans. That’s the process of living. It’s never easy. It’s often unpretty. It’s usually more outrageous than I could ever imagine, but it’s life.

I imagine that, given a natural death, I will some day have a moment where I let go of the breath that I’ve been holding. I will look back on the minefield that has been my life, and I will realize not only that I made it through but that flowers have grown over the places where I’ve stepped.

Maybe you’ll see that, too.

Some people get giddy with excitement, and it’s adorable. Others talk about their favorite things in a way that is simply obnoxious. Me? I don’t get excited, no really. I become passionate  about the things I love. I want to talk about them seriously. I analyze. In short, my fandoms and interests lack the sort of levity that enables others to be excited and fun about theirs, and it makes me jealous.

I don’t know how to squee with delight. I don’t know how to get super excited about upcoming events. I can’t prolong the happy feelings of doing something for more than a few days after. I’m just not very good at all at being excited. I wasn’t always this way, I don’t think. I mean, I was always weirdly serious, deep,  but I remember feeling excited in the past. There’s a few things that have made it difficult, I think.

• My anxiety flaring up in the recent years
• Others bombarding me with their own excitement..
• ..and subsequently removing any room of my own for me to be excited
• My self consciousness

Most of those are not very good reasons, logically, but I just don’t know how. How do you get excited? How do you psych yourself up? How do you make the feeling last? I don’t know

Sometimes I forget. I’m sure you do too, though. I want to be adult, I want to be in control of my feelings but sometimes I go overboard in such a way that allows my feelings to run me over, anyway.

Sometimes I just need to be reminded “It’s okay to have feelings.” After all, it would be weird if I didn’t have negative feelings at this time in my life. I need to remember to expect feelings, to accept them, to experience them and let them go. But I get caught up in not wanting to feel certain ways. I wind up berating myself, thinking that I am stupid and I should be beyond this.

Have you ever tried to make yourself stop crying by telling yourself how stupid you’re being? Yea, it doesn’t work very well.

There are people in my life who help perpetuate those unproductive thoughts, though. There are some who think I shouldn’t have feelings. They cannot possibly understand why I would be upset now but the truth is that they are irrational. I am just human. Alive. I care about my marriage. To have feelings now really is the most logical thing I can do.

To repeat:

It’s okay to have feelings.

I am me and by “me” I mean that I am many things, some good and some bad. After all, I am only human and none of us are perfect. I am struggling right now with some heavy stuff. At the same time, I am learning to let the little things go (I am, in fact, reading Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff…); it is not always easy however. The book advises us to accept ourselves for all we are, including the bad parts. The sooner we accept our negative feelings, the more efficiently we can work through them instead of denying that they exist which makes them into bigger issues.

Understandably, I am having many negative emotions right about now. I am angry and sad. I am hurt and regretful. I am scared. I feel disappointed and regretful. My heart is breaking. I feel lost. But that’s okay. That is all to be expected. It is entirely normal. It would be scary if I did not feel those things.

Despite how I feel, I know that I will be okay, eventually. No matter how things turn out. Life is not hopeless, even if I feel that way sometimes. It would be a shame to get divorced, that’s true, but I am resilient. If I didn’t learn to deal with what life throws at me, I would have killed myself a long time ago.

And, truth be told, I’m glad I didn’t because then I wouldn’t have spent the last 7 years with Ryan and I would regret that far more.