I figured it out. At least part of it, anyway.
Yesterday, I was hurrying off to the bus stop, trying not to trip over myself. All the while I was talking to C.S. on his lunch break. He asked, “Why are you rushing? You left the house with plenty of time.” I answered, “I didn’t account for the extra time it would take in heels.” I was wearing a pair of black, leather, 5 inch heeled, platform boots. He inquired, “Why are you wearing heels?” I answered, “They looked cute with the outfit. I just thought I’d mix it up a little.”
I am not a very vain woman. (Face it, all women who worry about their appearance are at least a little vain). Yes, I dye my hair platinum blonde, and I try not to leave the house without at least a little mascara on. I like certain fashion, particularly bohemian chic. And it takes me a little while to get dressed. I’m only female.
However, I am not vain to the point where I sacrifice for fashion. I won’t starve myself to fit my fat rear into a pair of ultra skinny jeans. I have never burnt my hair with a flat or curling iron. And I don’t own a single pair of stilettos. We have a casual dress code at work – could’ve just worn sneakers like every other day.
Light bulb moment!
“I just thought I’d mix it up a little.
Later in the conversation, my husband revisited a text he sent me earlier. “You’re muted.”
Yes, I was. I told him, “I’m not going to lie to you. I’m still a little sad about Zen. This doesn’t feel like a depressive episode. I’ve just felt so blase’ lately. It’s like I’m bored, but I have plenty to do.”
“I’m used to the mountain and right now I have the mole hill.”
This isn’t the start of a spiral into depression. I’m not bored. I’m not being challenged! There are no distractions or shinies. That’s what the greyness is all about.
Think about it. I have walked through fire recently. I’ve survived the gauntlet. I came out the other side better for it all. The calm has been unusually long. I’ve never had more than a moment to breathe a sigh of relief before I was onto another battle. Not that I’m complaining – really I’m not. I’m not used to it, and I don’t know how to enjoy the mole hill.
There’s always a wrench that gets thrown into my plans. Even mundane things like showering and dressing. A drain clogs, something breaks, something gets lost, someone else doesn’t do something they’re supposed to, whatever. It’s always something!
On Wednesday, T.D. and I went upstairs around noon, like usual. I set him up with some Wordgirl (yeah, OK, I already know that’s not fantastic parenting. You don’t have to mention it.). Then, I proceeded to get ready for work. I pick out my outfit and dressed. I did the same with my jewelry and painted my face all pretty with makeup. I looked at the clock. Waaaay ahead of schdule. I sighed and laid on the bed.
House was clean. I was all packed up to leave for work. There was nothing left to do for another hour.
I got to the stop early and waited. I got downtown and found that I was just in time for the early bus. It dropped me off in the neighborhood I worked with another half an hour before I started. I walked the neighborhood aimlessly, taking my good time to read posts and smoke a cigarette. I still clocked in ten minutes early.
Where’s the mountain? And now that I know I have the mole hill, how do I enjoy it?