Friday, February 22, 2008

I Can't Get Warm

Literally and metaphorically, I can't get warm.

On this morning's commute to work, the radio announcer referred to today's low of 7 degrees (actually a significant improvement over the last few days) as "cool". Have people lost their minds? Perhaps their brains are frozen and will thaw and become functional again in a few weeks. Seven degrees is honkin' freezing, people. It's an insult to the human person.

True enough, February always makes me cranky. My house is drafty. My office is cold. I'm tired shoveling the snow away from the dryer vent and tracking salt into the house. Surely there are homeless people I could help in the Bahamas. What am I doing here? But there's more than just the February blues going on.

It's Friday night, and I'm alone in my drafty old house. In my pajamas at 8:00 on a Friday night, because I'm cold. Cold and alone. Blech.

There must be stages of admitting one's situation to oneself -stages of allowing all the grief into consciousness. Or it washes up again and again in waves until it's processed. Or something. The last two nights have been brutal hours of tormenting myself. How could this have happened? Why me? I'm chilled and scared all the way into my bones, it seems.

It's boring even in the telling of it. I know you don't want to hear it. But I think there are still tears that need to be shed, even at the risk of being boring. A glimmer of a thought here is that I've been good about some kinds of taking care of myself. I've been good about reclaiming bits and pieces of me. But I might be going too easy on myself. I've been gentle, but not powerful -not that those are mutually exclusive.

What's the next powerful thing that I can do? It's a small thought, but I think the signs are pointing to reclaiming my physical fitness regimen. A new bike has caught my eye. I've been to the gym a few times. Exercising makes me feel better. Training for something makes me feel better yet. And I can work out or train even if other things in my life don't go the way I want them to go. It's something that can help sustain me even if, say, I have to move or I run into Dave while he's here over spring break or something else goes wrong. I need the experience of doing something amazing. All I have to do is take it step by step, in the same methodical stodgy way that I've done the rest of this. That, and cry when there's no alternative.

And start doing stuff on Friday nights, forcryingoutloud.

4 comments:

Michael said...

I think it's today. Even with the heat cranked all the way up in my car, my hands and feet were cold all the way home from work this afternoon. I've got my lambswool slippers on here, and my feet are still cold. As I just said to another friend, I'd love to be able to crawl into bed, pull the comforter tightly around my shoulders, draw the drapes, and sleep for a month until it's warm again...and all the media are gone from campus, and the Phelps goons...

Lisa :-] said...

Sometimes you just have to cry. And it will probably be like that for quite a while. That doesn't mean you aren't doing amazing things with your life...

Barbara said...

Hang in there, sweetie! We're with you.

Anonymous said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.