It’s almost the end of the weekend and I feel incredibly lazy and sluggish languishing in bed on a Sunday afternoon. The sunlight is streaming through the lace curtains and the bees quietly buzzing around the red and purple flowers outside are a blur. Yet I feel sick in my stomach and am filled with an aching sadness…every Sunday feels like the last. Maybe it’s because tomorrow is Monday and I know it’s another week of work, maybe it’s because I never see anyone on Sundays and I miss talking and I talk to myself more on a Sunday to fill the silence of nothingness.
The last week at work has been busy, coming in early, leaving late, taking on extra projects involving FBT for Tax and learning how to give SAP access. I cooked a lot, made sausages with pasta, onions, tomatoes, ginger, garlic and chili. I made chicken biryani in a frying pan which was a complete fail. And I made an effort. I made an effort to make more friends, to fix the things in my life that were bringing me down and make myself happy because life is way too short to be sad. And I realised, that I’m like Maria but I don’t have her confidence, or I won’t, until I accept that I am.
Maria is the girl who won’t come in from the rain…don’t you know….she’s oceans running down the drain. For non-Blondie fans, Maria is the girl I am most like and yet the girl I don’t have the courage to be. My mother always tells me to be myself and make no apologies for who I am. Yet over the years I’ve given bits up, for friends, guys, my parents…and the expectations that followed. And in trying to reclaim those parts of myself that I lost along the way, I’m finding that some of them are irretrievable and I have grown so used to apologising for who I am that I don’t know how to stop. It is hard to find someone who accepts your maturity with your childlike wonder, your intelligence and your juvenile sense of humour. I am both the philosopher and a baby at once…and I make no apologies for my laugh like a 5 year old, my intensity and my depth of emotion, or that I’m the puppy that gets under your feet and snaps at your ankles. I’m crazy at best and if you’re not man enough to handle me when I’m wild as Cathy on the moor then you don’t deserve me at any other time. Yes I’m clingy, yes I need to be held and loved and nurtured to grow. But like any plant, I cannot bloom and flourish if I am not watered and I’m only just learning how to tend to myself.
On Friday I played basketball at lunch with some friends from work and though I’m probably the worst basketball player, that was the highlight of my week. I love playing anything, and trying makes you human. Friday evening was trivia night at work and I was happy I managed to answer a few of the questions in History, Geography and Music, since I know nothing about Australian TV shows or American Idol. It was an okay night and I was glad to go home and sleep by the end of it. I had a busy Saturday, going to a Free Spin class (butt is still sore ouchies), and then went to the Dandenong Ranges with an old school friend and we did the Thousand steps walk. It was hard work and I was more unfit than I thought I was. The rest of the day was filled with the monotony of grocery shopping, cooking, and watching Grey’s Anatomy with Dinner which is the only way to distract myself from the depressingness of eating alone.
This morning I went to Hatha Yoga, which only confirmed how awkward I thought it would be and how inflexible I am compared to women twice my age. The rest of the day was lazy, sitting in bed reading Bread and Chocolate by Philippa Gregory. I started and finished the book over the afternoon and think reading a series of short stories about women whose husbands leave them, and priests who are attracted to female chefs with TV shows, and Uncles taking care of their 5 year old nieces who collect speckled stones on the beach was both refreshing and cleansing. I realise I can turn things around….make more friends, be who God made me to be. I can also sit in bed and continue to do nothing and hate the way I’ve been feeling for the last week. So now I find myself in this awkward predicament where I’m writing this blog, watching the sun move across the garden, from the flowers now dappled through the trees…and wondering where the rest of the hours will go. But It’s only 3pm and there’s sun left enough for the rest of us.
Time to get out of bed and go for a walk. I need to walk between people and see people and talk to someone besides myself, and the yoga instructor at the gym, and my landlady who makes me pet her evil demon cats. Time to go for a walk.