Mail Order Life

Now, I'm not hating on mail service here but things have gotten... slow. Painfully slow. Due to the probability that everyone is doing what I've done for years: ordering a shit ton of online crap. Yet I'm kind of stuck in a limbo as I wait for craft stuff to get here. 

Yes, there's plenty I could do. Write. Draw. Crochet. But it feels like all the things I want to do are at the mercy of the postal service. I need cord to string my doll. Another doll still has yet to arrive. The padding for the couch I've crocheted. The rotary cutter to cut out my fabric. The Funko Pop blanks to customize.

Instead, I've been playing video games and watching Project Runway. Poorly, I might add, since I'm not really feeling those either.

I'm not going to mope about the things I miss, but I do find our new normal to be difficult. My meds are getting me by, but they can't quite get me where I want to be mentally. Those are hurdles I have to overcome in my own time. There is no forcing anything. It is what it is. I've become more a creature of impulse, taking naps and trying to remember to eat, but things have become mechanical, which means I crave hands-on projects and expediency. I crave instant gratification and... Well, sitting at a computer is something else I'm having difficulty with.

I'm a toddler. I don't want naps or toys or blankets. I want that damn cookie on the bottom of the package and it better not be broken. I know I'm being difficult, but there's little I can do to ease my cranky disposition. 

I'm working on it. Things are getting done but plans are useless, now more than ever. I'm an egocentric creature of impulse, thriving on being difficult. It's not cute. It's pointless. Yet it also is what it is. The only way to get over it is to get through it. Time has different meaning. Life is showing a different path, one I hadn't prepared for. But will I make it?

Oh, hell yeah. No question. Some chapters in our stories are more difficult than others, but it's not giving up. I'm just trying to turn pages on empty sentiment, but eventually I'll pick up the pen and use it. I sometimes need to be thoroughly sick of myself to fall in love with me again. That's the eternal curse of being me, that love/hate pull that radically bends me between motivation and ennui.

We're not suffering from a lack of discipline. We've regressed into a state of internal ignorance where we have to learn from the beginning and feel out a different world. Us non-essential workers? We're facing unscheduled days and inflexible energy levels. Toddlers again. Even having things that always made us feel essential doesn't mean we can embrace them. I've sat down and hammered out words, doodled pictures, but I can't quite jibe with them. I'm not pure toddler, but somehow mixed with the unfeeling android and the eccentric overachiever. We're just not a good crowd for each other. And yes, I just confused the tense by making myself a 'we'. For the record, I'm still just a 'she' juggling with conflicting personalities.

So I wait. For mail. I'm not expecting it to miraculously soothe me. In fact, I'll probably find some new complaint to feed on. Yet, the good news is undeniable; those complaints lessen and I find more peace. With naps, with toys, with tangling in blankets. I'm not ungrateful. I'm not wallowing. I'm just staring all too well at my inner self and seeing things I'm not entirely comfortable with. As an introvert, I'm not a stranger to this game. It's never comfortable until it is. And when it is...

I shrug it off and move on. There's no great epiphany or startling depression. Once I find the balance, it's not even really peace. Because balance is about trembling the middle, what eventually motivates me includes turmoil. I'm not waiting to be happy or comfortable. I'm just running along the scales, looking for the right place to counterbalance on a solid point.

It's not a numb place. It's not ambivalent or cocky. It's always unstable, but has room for healthy amounts of cynicism and optimism alike. To some people, it doesn't seem like a life goal, but when you've tipped the extremes a lot in life, there is little better than that shaky middle.

It's all in the hips, and let me tell you, I have hips for days and I'm ready to shake things up.

Little by little, I'm setting it up and throwing it down. Watch me.