Dear Diary,
I was never one for change. The 6 letter word scares me, shakes me in my very bones. It means that shifts are inevitable, that every time I think I've reached some kind of stability, things get messed and here I go for another unwanted round of "AHHHHHH!!".
I mean, I have changed. I stopped sucking my thumb, and most recently, I've gone natural (click here if you don't know what it means) and decided to live a more holistic lifestyle (exercise, healthier food, the whole shebang). Ironically, I also started smoking, which kind of defeats the purpose, but who's to judge that it was a stupid thing to do?
And I've been depressed. I mean, I was always the emotional type, and mood swings were a daily thing -- an hourly battle. But I mean, I've been REALLY depressed. (details some other time maybe...) I've been unable to sit down unless it's for watching reruns of some kind (Gilmore Girls anyone?) or mope for hours at a time. I'm tired of misery wanting me as company.
So I did what I do when I've been circling the same annoying dark thoughts in my head: I went for a night time walk.
First things first: getting ready for the occasion: pants, coat and three pairs of socks (it's incredibly cold out there!). I-pod in tow, I walked out of the house ready to kick myself in the face for wasting more time that could have been used for more scholarly purposes such as but not limited to my geography project I told my partner I had already done -- one week ago.
First Stop: a bench in my neighborhood's park. My feet were already freezing, but the cigarettes were sure to help...calm my throbbing head. One of the many benefits of those calcium filled beauties is that they make me spit like a sailor. Which makes me a hypocrite because I hate when people spit in public. But since I was all alone among my tree friends and the jungle gym, I got a free pass. I turned the I-pod off, the noise wasn't making the throbbing go away either. And then, the impossible happened: silence. I never realized how pretty it was. The snowflakes waltzing through the warm glow of the streetlights made it all the more enjoyable. It was now time for the second and last stop of my little escapade.
Final Destination & Favorite Place in the World: the arboretum. I walked down the slope to the river and was overjoyed by the sound of water that broke the silence. I thought the whole thing would be an ice rink by now. You have to count your blessings, right? I crossed the bridge and went through the sinuous path sheltered by leafless branches to reach the final destination. My lone tree had been surrounded by new young ones since the last time I'd seen it. It was where I had buried my bird Blueberry. It was my sitting tree, my thinking tree, my chillax tree. I unceremoniously rid it of snow so I could sit comfortably. I breathed. It was my first breathe in ages. Like the little loner I was, I sat there calming myself out of the tantrum-panic attack I had momentarily been in earlier. Snowflakes greeted my face, replaced the tears that had been there only moments ago. My heart found a steady pace. I know I have to stop observing life and start being an active participant, but... this place absorbs my pain and my anger like an unknowing sponge, without wanting anything in return. Maybe the next time I spat, it would get the bitter taste and everything else finally out.
It's a New Year, but that doesn't mean anything. It doesn't mean that everything will get resolved, that my life will change in a significant manner even if I want it too. I need to stop being a spectator and believing that my life is a movie or book and that wishful thinking is going to get me what I want. I'm going to get me what I want, even thought "that" has a very obscure meaning at the moment. Now, if I can just hold on to that feeling, I'll be just fine. I'll be OK.
This year will be different.
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