Twitching and Rarin' to Go

Earlier this month, I was twitchy, unsettled, needing a change of scene and new perspective.  And I needed some beauty for the soul.  Because my soul and heart felt ugly. I was in a funk, which I describe (for better or worse) as not being fit for human consumption.  As in, no humans needed to be around me.  I did not want to be around me.  

I yearned for a change.

So I listened to my heart's desire and pointed my car North toward civilization. A city. With an art museum. And a Target.

I bought this bracelet from a student organization today.
It is dedicated to erasing the stigma around mental health issues.  

In the course of 6 hours I processed some of my sadness and rage. I nurtured my longings for beauty, marveling at the intellectual depth of artistic production, and laughing out loud at Diane Arbus's insightful, idiosyncratic photos. I treasured the Monet, Picasso, and Warhol productions that I recognized from photos and now stood near. I enjoyed a book along with coffee and a gluten-free blondie at the art museum cafe.

I stopped at Target and laughed some more.  Why? Because Target, a rare treat for me, used to be my go-to for retail therapy. This time around, my big purchases were floss and cleaning supplies. 

It was a reckoning in maturity. 

A middle-age-ish reckoning? (I am not sure when that truly begins.  But I am getting closer). 

Regardless, in October, when I started this blog, I thought my aging might be over.  When it became clear I would continue on, it was also clear that I had no stamina.  I could not have driven one hour on my own, much less four hours in one day. I could not have done that even in January, when it seemed I might have to and the inability to do so matched my inability to draw the line and say "no." 

So despite the soul doldrums (souldrums?), things are looking up.  This includes my smile, which is back in full force.  While my smile is back, my right eye blinks more slowly than the left, and much more slowly when I am tired.  They are definitely out of sync.  

Sometimes I do not notice.

What I do notice are the twitches.  Above by eyebrow.  Near the corner of my nose.  On the eyelid itself.  The twitches dance and jump. They are unpredictable, and signs (I think) of continuing healing. They have been my constant companion for at least two months, a source of detached interest--because it's not like there's much I can do.

I can't fix the twitches.  But when I get twitchy in other ways, when my heart needs "time and an extra bit of love," and my soul needs grace, I am itching, twitching, and rarin' to go--and able to do so.