I am suddenly relishing confusion.
All my life, I have fought against it, I have bit and clawed and scratched my way through it to find some sort an answer. I’ve never been at ease with uncertainty, it makes me wary, weary and worrisome. These 3 Ws make a fatal combo, turning me into a raging, hysterical mess. And when there is just no way possible to figure out the cause or the solution, I resort to tears. Mind you, not subtle lady-like ones either with muffled sniffs, but rather crude wild wails of anguish with lots of spluttering and manic red eyes. It’s not a pretty sight.
But right now, I feel calm. Where once there was a constant, there is now this huge void in my life and I am strangely okay with it. I don’t feel frantic, like a little kid lost in a supermarket, but rather just tuned out, as if the lost kid found a pack of jelly worms and a puzzle to keep him busy. I have distractions, and work I actually enjoy doing. Those are my jelly worms.
As for the confusion itself, I have just kind of left it to see how it plays out on its own. This is me taking a stand against being pro-active. After all, you know you need to chill the hell out when even your mother, who doesn’t know much about the case in point, tells you to let it go.
So this is me chilling out. Letting it go. Looking for some rain to dance in, some storm to kick up, and some shade to dive under. Bring on the thunderbolt.