fickle march, fickle me

maybe i need to stop taking emo pics and actually work through my emotions. nahhhh.

The other morning on my way to work I sat through an entire red light without realizing my right turn signal was blinkblinkblinking away. I was going straight. I flipped it off as I accelerated through the light and looked around sheepishly at the other cars to see if anyone was pissed and/or making obscene gestures at me. Guess everyone was feeling pretty tame that morning because I didn't get a single side-eye. Maybe they thought it was a late April Fools joke. A cheap leftover.

 

I guess I lost myself there for a second in contemplating what a good month March was to me this year. To tell the truth, I've never really had any real affinity toward Spring. I get it, I get it. Rebirth, life, emerging on the other side of Winter. It's all well and good to see green again and to not feel like my fingers and ears are going to fall off every time I step outside, but really, I'm in it for Summer. Spring is just another thing to endure before blistering heat, minimal clothing, and the promise of campfires and sunshine and reading while partially submerged in water.

 

Spring is fickle. It changes its mind too often, threatens to give my psyche whiplash. It's soggy and tumultuous, despite the hardy daffodils and magnolias that quickly remind us of all to come and then fade until next year.They're a treat, but they're not made to last.  No wonder Picses are the way that they are, they kick off Spring. Anyone born at the start of such a finicky season is bound to brood. And yet, I'm attracted to the depth and the endless rollercoaster ride that the Picses in my life take me on. As I've mentioned probably a hundred times, I'm a summer soul through and through.  I usually have no use for finicky March. For the battle of rain and sun, warm and cold.  Why should I? I know who is going to win out, let's get on with the next.

 

I sometimes feel like my entire life is a series of waiting to get on with the next.

 

I don't know, I mean, I make as much effort as the next guy to really be present in the moment and enjoy where I am, but the fact of the matter is that I'm like a half-starved animal- I'm always reaching, stretching, grasping, struggling for more. Just a little further. Just a little tiny bit more. Just just just just.

 

 

Just slow down, Sara.

 

Let's consider real life for a moment.

 

Have I mentioned recently that I'm moving to Montana in a few short months? Yeah. That's happening. In my mind I'm so overwhelmed by the fact that I'm going to pacify this internal pull to run to the mountains that I don't even know where to start here. What can I do but wait until it's finally time?

 

I know this thinking isn't productive. It doesn't encourage lists or tying up loose ends or force me to grapple with leaving the life I've forged here. It's so confusing that I don't feel joy or sadness or anything really. Just the knowledge that I'm going, the impatience that I'm not there yet, and the dull sinking feeling that comes with knowing that there is so much to do before I depart. But I feel sort of stuck, like there's nothing I can do right in this exact moment in time, and that frustration feels raw and itchy. It's a rash I wear constantly. It's distracting and demanding. It takes so much effort and will power to keep it at bay.

 

And this is the line I dream of:

 

"Let there be rock and roll on the dashboard rado; let there be occasional hands bongoing on the dashboard. Let that white line in the middle of the far west two-lane highway come feeding into the screen..." -Jack Kerouac

 

My soul is so far away from my body and right now I feel ugently that, for once, it is crucial that my soul and body inhabit the same plane.

 

And yet March was wonderful and wild. I planted bulbs and pulled weeds and watched little green tongues poke through the soil, so hungry for sunlight. I welcomed a member of my family and watched my sister become a mother, a role she falls into so naturally that I'm once again shocked that we can at the same time be so alike and so differerent. I got accepted into school and decided on a new life path. I had serious conversations with Matt about our future, read many delightful books, saw one of my favorite bands in concert, and painted some beautiful pictures. I started running again and told my boss that I'm gone by summer's end and cheered my alma mater all the way to the final four. I celebrated the birthdays of my sister and brother and got a sun tan on my face and arms from a week straight of 80 degree days.

 

March was full, you guys.

 

Full of good.

 

It deserved to be treasured and polished for memory.

 

So why do I feel so distracted by something I can't pull out of my periphery? It's right there, but I can't catch it staring straight on.

i think i've mastered self indulgent rants.

When someone asks me "What do you want?" my reaction is usually an (un)healthy mix of anxiety and nonsensical rambling.

 

Which internally computes as anxiety and guilt.

 

Unless it's something easy, like "Bacon or sausage?" (bacon, always, always bacon.)

 

I guess in a broad sense, it's not so hard to pick out a few of my heart's desires. Just as long as it's not me specifically, as long as we're talking about stuff everyone wants- like a funky little house in the woods, more vacations, a fulfilling career, more dollars in my bank account, smaller pores, etc... If it's that stuff then I guess we're still on the right track and I'll gladly participate. But when I really truly get put on the spot about what I want, it tends to set me into panic sweats. 

 

The kicker? I have no fucking clue as to why that is! 

 

Let's talk about my childhood and my parents for a minute, really dig into the stuff where people tend to harbor their issues. At the root of in all, we're talking supportive, loving, providing people. Both in time and in resources. I lived a childhood that can be honestly described as abundant for christsakes, do you have any idea how few people come out of childhood referring to that time as ABUNDANT?? Me neither. But I can't see how it could be very many.

 

All in all, my parents were a good team, socially adept, encouraged me to play outside and read books, weren't afraid of screaming matches where the entire family got to participate, made me do chores/eat my vegetables/write thank you notes, and told me that when I grew up, I could do anything I dreamed of. Except become a Democrat... which I did anyway.

 

Sorry Mom and Dad!!

 

 

(Not really.)

 

 

Sure, everyone in my family is basically a borderline alcoholic, sure my mother is overbearing and makes herself the victim in almost every situation, sure my parents raised each of their four children completely differently so there was no consistency in discipline or rules, sure my dad was largely absent because he traveled for work all of the time, and sure I feel like I'm constantly disappointing them by not winning a Nobel prize, who doesn't? Still, the good stuff needed to create a healthy, assured, adult was all totally there, and for the most part, that's what I am. Besides all the rest of the stuff I just mentioned only adds to my character, and my character is one of my favorite parts about me!

 

So basically, I'm cool with my childhood. I don't feel like I was deprived of anything too drastic. (Anymore, because doesn't every teenager feel like they're being deprived of something crucial for living? I know I did. That's another way I was totally undeprived of a normal upbringing, I totally felt deprived at times!)  One could even argue that my parents went above and beyond their duties by fully paying for my college education, out of state no less. Whats that you ask? Student loans? Nope! I'm totally free of those shackles! Color me spoiled and hurl insults at will!

 

 

But, I'm not a teenager anymore. I'm not in college. I'm twenty-five years old. I graduated from college almost four years ago! I drive a Jeep! I have health insurance! I have a job that requires biz-cas attire! I pay my own bills! My boyfriend loves me and willingly cooks me dinner every night! My metabolism isn't completely shot yet!

 

 

I've made it, right?

 

 

So why the fuck do I feel like the walls of my life are crumbling all around me? I'm totally discontent, to the point where I can't even engage in a conversation about what I want without freaking out.

 

 

 

Ok, here's a problem that will probably become obvious: I have absolutely no idea what I want to do when I grow up, if that's even really a thing, growing up. Also, sometimes I have no idea who I am.

 

 

How is that possible? How can I have lived on this earth for this long and have no inkling of these basic personal facts?

 

 

I feel not only pitiful, but whiny and fucking ridiculous. I lead a pretty good life, there is no reason I'm so miserable. But why is it that after reminding myself of that fact, I still feel miserable? I've been in a funk for OVER two years now, and I have no idea how to pull myself out of it or get on a new path.

 

And I think one of the main reasons for this is that I have no idea what I want.

 

It's kind of ironic to say that about myself, because I'm pretty self aware, I also go to great lengths to attain things that I set my sights on- and I rarely fail. When I hone in, my efforts are of almost super-human strength.

 

But I don't know what I want. I'm not honed in. I'm sitting listlessly in my cubicle, commuting through a city I don't want to be living in, smiling fakely for the people in my life, filling my time with whatever can hold my meager efforts and attention span, like entire television series. And waiting.

 

Have a mentioned waiting? Instead of putting in the effort to figure out what it is that I actually want in life and going out to fucking kick ass, take names, and go get it, I've taken to waiting for it to appear. At least now I'm starting to become alert to how flawed THAT logic is.

 

I'm aware that I sound like a lazy little bitch that can't handle life's blows in my direction.

 

Trust me, if I'm not annoying you, you probably need to check your pulse. I annoy the piss out of myself.

 

I just don't know how to find it. That, IT. You know? That thing that I will do and do and do and pour myself into for the rest of my days. I don't know what I want.

 

I don't know how to find it.

 

I don't even know where to start.

 

And it's driving me fucking crazy.

 

Whew. Done.