I was telling someone today about the job that I may or may not be starting tomorrow. I’m not being clever – I actually don’t know if I start tomorrow, so I’m just going to show up and hope they pay me. The person’s response was “Oh good, now you won’t have to hold a stop sign for the summer.” Holding a stop sign for a highway construction crew is actually what I want to do for work, but in the meantime I still need some cash, and this will do. Anyway – what was interesting about this person’s comment was my reaction to it. I didn’t say anything to her, but in my head I said something to the effect of “All I really have to do is breathe and beat my heart. The rest is optional.” It’s kind of cheeky, but it’s also how I feel fairly often these days. And I think that’s a good thing.
I often deal with a feeling that I’m trapped or stagnant. And it’s terrifying to me. I don’t usually get claustrophobic in small physical spaces, but when I feel like I’m running out of options, I start to feel a kind of boxed-in sensation which sets off a chain reaction involving panic attacks, hyperventilation and the consumption of popsicles. But if I can convince myself that none of this stuff is permanent, it kind of allows me to deal with the same situation, but with a far less frantic attitude.
It’s not as if I spend most of my days just breathing and beating my heart. I also open my eyes. I often move my appendages and frequently take advantage of my ability to ambulate. I also think about very important things. Like how to include the maximum amount of bacon in my diet. Or how come I’ve never seen a baby pigeon. Jack Handey would be proud. It’s just that after the whole keeping alive stuff, I like to remember that I get to choose what I want to do, and there’s not a whole lot that, at the most basic level, I actually need to do. Now I just wish someone would explain that to my mother and the phone company.
