I’m not usually the jealous sort. I know too well that anyone who looks as though they have it all are often being torn in two by something you would never suspect. Just check out Perez Hilton when you’re bored at work to confirm this theory. I’m more the cheerleader, believing that karmically (I think I either just invented a word or am a horrible misspeller. Both are highly possible), you deserve this reward. I really do get happy for others, or at least I used to. Now I act the same, big hugs, long talks and an offer to partake in the celebration; whether it’s a girl’s night out to celebrate a raise or helping someone to pack up their things to move to their dream home. But I don’t get happy for them. In fact, I’ve started getting bitter. I don’t hold it against the rewardee, but I still feel, well, jealous.
When you put every last bit of energy into something and you get nothing back, or worse, the situation deteriorates even further, it’s hard to find happiness in someone’s progress. Don’t get me wrong, I wish no one ill will (except maybe Mel Gibson), I just want to be a part of the I-have-something-to-be-really-happy-about club.
I’m at a wall here, trying desperately to figure out what I can try next. How can I push myself forward? Stop stressing, sleep more, chow down on some probiotics… The list is shorter now, but there is always some suggestion, some research. Dr. Oz says try some feverfew, mom says quit your job, and that one friend insists that a good bottle of red wine can cure anything or at least make you feel cured for a few hours.
But what if I just sit here on this wall? Leave it alone and snuggle into the pause button for a while?
I gave it a run through over the weekend. I didn’t count nutrients, I didn’t apply lotions and tonics, I didn’t plan out each meal but ate when I was hungry and what I craved. (Not surprisingly I craved a lot of chocolate). I didn’t go crazy, the way a dieting bride might after the wedding, but I did have my fair share of Wegman’s gluten-free chocolate ice cream… and there might have been a Van's gluten-free waffle involved. It went against all the plans and lists.
I wish I could say that I feel a little better but I don’t. The important thing is, I don’t feel worse. And maybe, for right now, that will have to do. Perhaps I just have to leave my body alone, take care of it of course, but not try to force it into anything either. Instead of insisting that it listen to me, I have to sit back and wait for it to start talking to me. Figuratively of course - if I start hearing voices I’m going back to the vitamins or maybe that’s when I’ll pick up the red wine.
In the meantime I’ll focus on what makes me happy, even if it is a bit of a struggle. Right now, the one thing I have is writing. As I redirect all my ‘getting better’ energy towards solving my character’s pain I can see clearly their way out, but for the sake of the plot it will get darker before it gets brighter. And maybe that’s true for me too, not for the sake of the plot but for the sake of who I am; which is not a bitter person.
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