To Wish, to Wonder, to Wallow

I know a few people who don't know how to roll with the punches. Perhaps it's more accurate to say that they don't know how to accept having been punched. When life (or an ex-boyfriend or an ex-job or an ex-anything) really socks them in the gut, they do not double over in pain, do not go off to lick their wounds, do not acknowledge the injury. Instead, they pretend they were never hit in the first place.

I wished I was like this kind of person about five hundred times this past week.

The reason I haven't written anything lately is that I didn't know how to write without turning this thing into something boring and worrisome for those who read it. I read several blogs, some of which are written by women who are going through unbearable times and I'm always left with anxiety after reading their words. I cannot do anything to help and yet I cannot NOT do anything either. I spent the past week or so having daily breakdowns in the comfort of my own bed, choosing to get through these moments of doubt alone.

Because the thing is, I'm a wallower. I am not like the aforementioned few; I can't take a punch and walk proudly away. I wallow and I sit in it and wait until my toes touch the bottom so I can push off again towards air. If I don't deal with things as they come they come back to get me months later and so my way of dealing is to get it all out at once. And boy, was there a lot to get a handle on this week. Here is a helpful diagram to help those of you visual learners (minus the black rubber ball, but including the big gut fed by homemade cookies ...):

It was very cathartic to make this silly picture, so if you'd like the image to make one of your own, to name (and choose fonts and sizes for!) your problems, drop me an email and I'd love to see your version if you're into sharing. Naming the overwhelming issues can be a good step towards getting over them and this exercise, combined with a few other moments over the past couple of days has me feeling a bit better. I think I'm swimming up to the surface again; a few yoga classes, a joyful weekend in Vermont for my graduation from Middlebury, and a quiet afternoon of studying math for the GREs have reset a few of my buttons. And while I'm still dreading the trip to Paris in two weeks to collect my things and say my goodbyes, making stateside plans for the upcoming months has helped me feel balanced as well.

Check back soon for Middlebury French class of 2007 pix, fun facts learned while studying for the GREs, and the story behind why I now own a cane. A story not to be missed, folks.

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