Right on schedule
Since we got back from Eclipse, exhausted, I haven’t taken one day off. Today, tomorrow? Working. It’s all good: I’m enjoying it, and we need the income. When I stop in the evening, however, I feel hollowed out. This surplus of activity, however, coupled with feline diabetes-related anxiety, has not prevented the yearly occurrence of my pre-birthday meltdown. Meltdown is not the best term… Crisis? Phenomenon? Maelstrom? Do you get the gist of it? It’s an unprovoked, independent cycle. It starts every year before my birthday and ends somewhere before the true beginning of fall (on this: I was born September 5th and, probably because my mom worked at schools and had therefore integrated the school calendar, she always told me I was born int he fall. It was only much later that I went “Wait a minute… I was born… during the summer!” and somehow that mattered to me then), leaving me cleansed, refreshed, and somewhat changed, but ready to overcome the year ahead. It takes a slightly different shape each year, sometimes resembling depression, sometimes only brushing by. It is a time to recap, rehash, recategorize and restart. In less than one month I shall be 32 (it’s a prettier number than 31, if you ask me (though few people care much about my deep sense of numbers and the colours and intents my brain associates with them)). You don’t need to know me much to guess that somewhere in my musings is a very powerful desire to have a child, a desire that is no longer idealistic and that cannot much longer be denied. As for the content of the remainder of the turmoil… I wouldn’t tell anyone if I knew. Nah, I’m not making fun: this whole process is a back-burner issue. It simmers in the back of my mind, and I only have to deal with what escapes from the pot. Where this year’s process will take me, I will only know later. Stay tuned, try to enjoy the ride. I know I will.
