madermouse's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 11/5/01 I�m feeling what I can only describe as a let-down. I feel perhaps the way a runner feels after crossing the finish line, in a big race that she�s been training months for. The initial reaction is elation, even exhilaration....followed by a sense of pride, of accomplishment. She�s happy and thankful that she stuck it out, even during the hard times, and she made it to her goal. She�s satiated. Then the exhaustion sets in. The giving of 100% of her maximum becomes apparent. She looks around her home. Dusty floors and cobwebbed ceilings serve as a reminder of her neglect The cat is sick again, definitely a result of inattention. Magazines pile on the coffee table, unread, and books dropped off by a friend gather dust in a pile on the floor. Her easel stands at attention, readily awaiting the forgiving weight of another canvas. Her paints lie dormant, looking forward to the opportunity to be swirled by a brush and become something beautiful, something more than the sum of its parts. Her flute is safely tucked away in its case, separated into its proper compartments. It, having been the longest ignored, seems to accumulate rust as an act of spite against her. She remembers a time when the mornings were spent cleaning and running errands or going down the coffee shop and leisurely enjoying a mocha and cranberry scone before work. She recalls many wintery days spent in the kitchen, baking pies and rich stews and aromatic breads to be shared by friends. She aches for the easy waking-up-late-on-a-Saturday feeling and the unmistakable sting of a martini in the lounge after dark. She wants to feast again, to explore the depths of her love for cheese, and the comfort of food in general. She wants to live easy again....mindlessly, without awareness. And so I�ve faltered. I�ve slipped on an emotional stair, encrusted with the memories of an easy past life...a life I no longer live. Many mornings of late, I awoke to the sound of my own voice, assuring me that I didn�t have to work so hard anymore. I heard me say that I didn�t have to push, to strive, to burn, to sweat, to traverse this rugged path anymore. I said that I had already accomplished so much, that I didn�t need to go on crusading for this movement like a preacher at Sunday�s sermon. The sad part is, I believed myself. I am up two pounds this week...and I have no tired, old excuses to offer. I feel like I�m teetering on the edge of a 100lb fence and gusts of devil-wind swirl around me in an attempt at seduction. My old life whispers promises of more time, more comfort, while my mind speaks rationally of health and long-term happiness. My mind logically knows I can never go back, but my spirit is weak. My heart feels nothing. Depression has its black hands curled around me, and I can�t breathe. I�m sure this too, shall pass....and so I�m just waiting. Its all I can do. 1:03 p.m. - 11/5/01 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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