Monday is like any other day

I’m supposed to be writing something for work, but I’m writing this instead. I’ve felt a lot of things already today. Another high, deep love. I’ve almost finished another one and I even cried after it had settled. I cried a drip drop because this morning I was just so damn happy to be doing what I was doing and I fell in love with it all over again, despite all the shit it puts me through. My day could have been complete already and I was only 2 hours out of a dream.

And then I felt patience for the cars, the stupid cars, the stupid cold, but my blood was warm and my current strong and I sent a letter to winter and he must have heard me because the moment my ride showed up, Pat’s car started and he said how much he loved me and I knew it I knew it I knew it that he did/does because I saw it in him the way you know something to be true.

And then I felt the words of blogland, all the beautiful words out there. Sadness and hope and love and need. And sadness because I won’t be able to see my sistercousin anymore in LA because she can’t get time off of work, she can’t get enough time and I hate work and time. But I love her.

I used to not feel so many things, so much, so often, so heavily, but then I also wasn’t writing everyday. I tuned it out, ignored it until I burst open. Sometimes I wonder if this is normal, if normal people feel everything all day, all the time. It can be heavy and wonderful at the same time. It can be a burden and it can set me free, stitch me wings.

Being this is not easy. But neither is being a woman or a human. I wonder if this is the light and the dark, the yin and the yang, the sweet and the salt? I wonder if I need both the be either or one?

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7 Responses to Monday is like any other day

  1. Rachel, dear, it is a burdensome and beautiful gift to feel, so deeply, so much. And I think most people have learned to lay filters on their dreads, anxieties, joys, one at a time, so that they have learned to protect themselves from too much feeling. Most people are not introspective, avoid it rather desperately, I think, and many don’t realize that another state of being human was even possible. They sleepwalk through life, which is terribly sad. But you are wide open, Rachel, accepting, registering, absorbing all the world before you, and that is a very great thing. It’s hard to know whether writing helped you find a way to manage your feelings, or if your feelings were so many and varied and intense, that it made you pick up a pen to describe them. And you are right–‘it can be a burden, and it can set me free, stitch me wings.’ It hurts and heals, this so much seeing, feeling. But oh, what riches you’ll discover, and how you will grow, and what beautiful wings they will be.xo

    • rachvb says:

      Dearest Melissa,
      “The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation” – Thoreau
      I have been reminded of this quote many times. And it always seems to fit when I find myself feeling ‘without skin’ or shields.
      You are always such a comfort, coming at the right time, making me feel as if I’m in the spot I should be all along. And perhaps I am and just need to be reminded. Thank you.
      Writing and I found each other for a reason – I certainly believe that.
      I will come back to your comment again and again, I think, for a little extra strength.
      Thank you, thank you.

  2. Julia HJ says:

    “I was just so damn happy to be doing what I was doing and I fell in love with it all over again.”

    That, my friend, is unique! I’ve worked enough corporate-ish jobs, and also enough non-profit-live-off-good-morale-jobs to know that it is truly unique in any working world to love so deeply what you do.

    Yay writing! And do come back to CA someday…

    • rachvb says:

      I am lucky to know what I want to do and to love what I do even if it’s not what I get to do all day. Some people never find it. And it’s true that when you find it, it’s not really work at all, but more like breathing.
      yay writing! and the CA thing – Someday, yes someday. =)

  3. Never having had the experience of “normal,” I have moments of wanting to be one of the teflon people for feeling so many conflicting emotions can be exhausting. But without introspection or a way to process information through some quirky filters, what would we write? So if the two are only offered as a package deal, well, I’m still in. There are days when being, as I was once called, overly responsive to my environment, feels like I’ve flung myself down on the asphalt about 50 times but then I can get up and write about it. If there is an easier way, I’ve never found it, never even heard of it. Bless your wings, bless your willingness to take on this assignment. xo

    • rachvb says:

      I’m not sure I ever experienced ‘normal’ either. I think perhaps I tried and the other parts, the underneath parts kept spilling out in unexpected places and it became sloppy to clean up.
      It’s similar to what Melissa was saying yesterday – who knows what came first: writing or feeling. I’m trying to remember back far enough, but all I can think of is my hamster dying and writing a poem about it. They have always been connected. They are one in the same, a package deal as you say. And more and more I am willing to dedicate my life to both.
      I’m a glad you, too, have taken on the weighty task of it all. It’s nice to have company.

  4. yes, yes, you need it all. you have touched a truth. you feel most alive when you are writing, most connected to what you feel. it is why we write, i think. it is intoxicating.

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