Because if I hadn't, I'm not sure what sort of means they'd use to sedate me and handcuff me to a hospital bed. Or, you know, whatever they do to people who just fucking lose it.

This month has been bittersweet, to say the least.

Sad Puppy

First, The Sweet

I was given some big challenges at work, and as of yesterday, saw some of the fruits of that labor. It was intense, and there was a good chance all along that I might fail, but being on the other side of it showed me that with the right amount of focus, hard work, creativity, and support from talented bosses and co-workers, cool things can happen. 

But it's been draining. Having a little system in place already that is helping me cut out digital clutter has been key. I seriously don't know how I'd be doing right now without 30 Days to Sanity. For realsies.

Second, The Bitter

I've also been going through some crazy upheaval in my personal life. This past week, in particular, has been an eye-opener...sometimes in a good way, sometimes bad. 

I've been having these bird's eye view flashes of myself (yeah, yeah, stick with me here).

Like, in the midst of brokenness, I can see who I am, all laid out like a map. The good parts, the bad parts, what I want to keep, to throw away. The moments I did something beautiful. The moments I made excuses and ignored the little signals that could have prompted a positive re-direct. 

But I guess that's what heartache is for. We can either wallow in the "bad feelings" part of it (which suck, to be sure) or use those feelings as a catalyst toward improvement and honest (and sometimes brutal) re-evaluation and re-prioritization.

Heartache is also a gentle nudge to get back to nowness. And again, while TOTALLY SUCKTASTIC, it can be a great way to appreciate minutia. Like, "I feel the tiniest bit better now than I did five minutes ago." Or, "OH GOD I WAS FINE WHY DID THAT PERSON HUG ME NOW I AM A SNOTTY SOBBING MESS IN PUBLIC."

All that to say, I'm here, but I'm also taking the time I need to accomplish what I need to professionally, emotionally, physically...all that good stuff.

I hope you are doing the same, though let's face it, we're all losing the tab battle, aren't we?

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We'd been discussing people and friendships. I wondered out loud if there was something wrong with me. Maybe I was the kind of person who didn't need anyone until I REALLY NEEDED someone...and maybe people didn't want to wait around to feel needed on my terms. Maybe they wanted to feel needed in small, consistent doses, rather than one big influx of sobbing, snotty-nosed NEED.

Maybe not. (And if it is that, I have no idea how to turn off my (aura of) total self-reliance until, of course, I am no longer self-reliant and instead am just a big fucking mess. I have found that people are better with steady helpings of mess. That, they can get used to. But no problems for a long time followed by BIG PROBLEMS for a short time is jarring. Maybe people feel like that's more than they signed on for when they decided they wanted to be friends.)

"We grow and we change. Sometimes people change with us, sometimes they don't."

She was right, but I still worried about it. I can't imagine that all the friendships that have fallen by the wayside are simply an unspoken, mutual agreement that, "This probably won't go any further." There has to be SOMETHING I could do better, right?

On the other hand, friendships are weird because in a lot of ways, they're similar to romantic relationships except for two things: no sex (usually) and no clean break-ups/endings (usually). So that means a dying friendship-type-relationship can hang on and on and on because there's not impetus to say formally, "This isn't working for me anymore."

(And, oh yeah, you can't follow THAT up with, "Let's just be friends," because, let's face it, that is never true in any break-up case*. Can we just be honest and start saying, "This isn't working...and what I really want is for you to leave me alone.")

All that to say, I'm glad that my friendships that are working are working. I'm sure with a little more digging and soul-searching, I could figure out better why the ones that don't, don't.

But, with all relationships, that would be just one side of the story. You know, "Two to tango," and all that.

*For whatever reason, I'm still friends with my significant exes. I'm pretty sure it's because I hold such a special, special place in their hearts. 

SNORT. 

I found one of the babies by the trash the other day. It was a tiny thing, lying on its side, stretched out long like it was in mid-bound. I don't know how it got there, or why it died. There didn't appear to be any damage or cause for its passing. In fact, it just kind of looked like it laid down, stretched out and was just hoping to take a little rest. 

It bothered me a lot to see it there. I hated passing by it when I would take the dogs for a walk. It reminded me of darker, sad things, stuff that we pretend isn't happening all around us every day, because if we really thought about it all in depth, and how useless we are to protect everything and everyone from hurtful things, we'd curl up in our beds and never leave. 

Its little body was finally gone this morning. I was glad. It's not like I imagined that it was bounding in a happier place. I was just grateful that the absence of the reminder of its death meant that my daily walks could be a little less sad.

Maybe that makes me a bad person. "Out of sight, out of mind."

I'd like to think that there's only so many dead baby bunnies one can see in a week and still keep a bounce in one's step. I don't think that makes me bad...just human.

I had just moved into my first "big girl all by myself" apartment, newly single, and television-less. At first, it didn't matter much. I was busy with work and moving and a few side projects and whoring. 

Then, it didn't matter at all once I figured out that anything I wanted to watch was usually readily available via Hulu or live streaming. 

I discovered it was really nice to not be tied to an arbitrary schedule created by someone else. "I have to be home by this time because my favorite show is on, and tonight we find out if Whats-her-face's lover is really a cyborg!"'

For just about a year, my laptop was my TV. I'd crank on a nearly commercial free show and dick around on Twitter or write a blog post or do whatever other multi-tasking is responsible for the complete inability to focus on one thing for more than 25 minutes at a time (thank gods for Pomodoro). 

In the fall, friends gave me a really nice TV with a really broken cable output. I bought a Roku and an HDMI cord. And now, when I feel like it, I watch an episode or two of something, or work my way, systematically and obsessively, through approximately 573 episodes of Hoarders.

All that to say, I often walk a fine line between "information" and "information overload". Part of my work entails being plugged in to "what's happening" in my field and elsewhere through Social Media. There are days I want to throw my computer against the wall and cry...I can't possibly keep up with it all, and I don't understand the people who can. Are they sleeping? Do they have some sort of Matrix port in the back of their necks that allow them to understand Pinterest analytics and learn kung-fu at the same time?

I think perhaps I'm learning that I'm an individual who both needs and craves some sort of quiet space while also, paradoxically, fighting to stay "in the loop". This, as you might guess, makes me feel like a crazy person, oh, all the damn time. 

There is still part of me that enjoys the rare weekend where all I hear is the click of the "next page" button on my Kindle. 

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