At 4 a.m. I was awakened by the sound of laughing as early morning walkers strolled by my house. A pang of remorse stabbed me when I realized how long it has been since I took myself on a walk.
A sort of melancholy had moved into my head since my children left and Thanksgiving is officially over at my place. Yesterday was truly Black Friday for me and there was no shopping involved.
Picture it. Several hundred of your best friends from a half century ago are gathered at your high school hangout to relive the best times of your life and pay tribute to one special classmate who left us much to soon.
At 1 a.m. I awoke in a cold sweat and proceeded to experience a break down brought on by too many decisions to make and my habit of taking bad advice and the easy way out.
I won’t go into details but suffice it to say I had been spiraling out of control for weeks and had reached the edge if my sanity, if not the universe, A small puff would have blown me beyond Earth’s gravitational pull, and I would have sailed off to another planet – without my lipstick or my peanut butter – the two things I will never go without.
Years ago, I began keeping a daily “journal”. Frankly that’s just a pop culture word for “diary”. Hardly a day goes by that I don’t use that journal to rant about what needs ranting about and listing all the small miracles – aka blessings – that are imbedded in each day.
At first, I bought expensive leather-bound blank books in which to record my observations, and the things I wrote were designed to make me sound like a cross between Martha Stewart and Ann Landers.
I’ve always been a bit of a dreamer. Even as a child, day dreams occupied most of my thoughts while I was supposed to be engaged in other things – like math class, long-winded Sunday sermons, and scoldings for lack of attention during the aforementioned activities.
To this day I don’t know how to figure percentages and I once purported to be a banker! (That didn’t last long.)