The hardest lesson for me is accepting that sometimes there are things beyond my control. Sometimes there is no fix and nothing to do but wait it out. Allowing feelings to bury me deep underground for a couple of days without fighting them…letting things just happen, that’s one of the hardest things to do.
One of my friends is very spiritual. She seems very grounded, enlightened, connected to nature. She told me that my authentic self is repressed, that I should be more playful. Yeah, probably. It’s been commented on more than once. I figure my authentic self would just like to be left alone. I’m too busy fixing things or organising the hell out of everything, or, you know, preparing for the apocalypse.
Anyway, it’s a weird time. A sort of in-between time that feels like a such a race, doesn’t it? The scurrying around, the decorating, the preparations, it’s all a bit timeless and placeless, yet everyone’s running around like time’s running out. And I’m sitting here staring out the window thinking there aren’t enough sunny autumnal days left, (there never are).
I revel in the melancholy of it all. The ending of autumn is always better than the beginning. Autumn sort of slides in without anyone really noticing, but the ending! Oh the ending is so dramatic – like when being broken hearted feels good because you’re feeling something so much and it’s so much better than the alternative of not feeling anything at all.
I’m rambling, but it helps me to write my feeling and thoughts, and it helps me to share them with you.
I should be painting something. I should be seriously busy and focused on my career. But I’m looking out the window again. The leaves are just so beautiful. This is November’s favourite party trick. I’m torn between staring out the window and picking up my pencil. But whatever I draw won’t be enough. That’s the heartbreak of autumn.
Morgan is perfectly happy doing a whole lot of nothing. And I may be starting to resent her for that.
I feel like I need a good hair cut.
Am I being dramatic?