23 hours ago
Monday, February 22, 2010
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Worry
On Saturday, Mike and I fell onto our white, downy comforter and slipped into heavy afternoon slumber in the falling orange light. Jude slept soundly in the next room, and the universe aligned momentarily. When I awoke, purple twilight had crept in between the slats of our blinds, filling the room with the stillness of a dying day. The traffic passed in muffled whooshes by our window, and Mike slept quietly next to me as I lay sleeplessly taking in the evening. Despite the calm surroundings, worry welled up in me, divided between two subjects.
My brother-in-law broke up with his girlfriend at the beginning of the week, startling himself and everyone else. We adored her, thought she was the perfect fit for him and the family. She fought for him to no avail. I've felt sad about it all week, worried about how she is doing, feeling vicariously the helplessness of unrequited love, of having no recourse, of having to start all over again. I lay there wishing I could change his mind, turn back time, undo the damage of the decision. It still sits like a heavy ogre on my back, this sudden loss.
Alternately, I worried about the characters in Battle star Galactica, a show Mike and I have been watching (don't judge us...and, yes, I judge us.). Captain Apollo has been depressed since his plane crashed in the fight with the Cylons, and Dr. Baltar inexplicably gave a nuclear weapon to the enemy. Why? Why, why why? Not to mention, the President of the Colonies has been dying of cancer and there is no person as capable of leading this rag-tag bunch of survivors.
And then my worried moved back to the break-up. And then back to Captain Apollo.
I know this is ridiculous, but both subjects felt heavy and oppressive. In the stillness of our bedroom, I wiped tears from my face and cuddled up next to sleeping Mike (and no, I am not pregnant again).
Again, and again, I come up against this thing in myself that grasps at control, at feeling like I can organize and shape forces beyond my ability to manipulate. Like love between others. Like the whims of fantasy writers. Like what will happen tomorrow and the next day and the next. And again, and again I have to relinquish. Loosen my grip. Remember that such control is an illusion I can't afford to maintain. Remember what Jeremiah says about trusting, about becoming a tree by the waters who cannot cease from yielding fruit, her leaves unceasingly green.
Even though I still wish that my brother-in-law would take one for the team. And that Dr. Baltar would stop-it-already with his Cylon sympathies.
My brother-in-law broke up with his girlfriend at the beginning of the week, startling himself and everyone else. We adored her, thought she was the perfect fit for him and the family. She fought for him to no avail. I've felt sad about it all week, worried about how she is doing, feeling vicariously the helplessness of unrequited love, of having no recourse, of having to start all over again. I lay there wishing I could change his mind, turn back time, undo the damage of the decision. It still sits like a heavy ogre on my back, this sudden loss.
Alternately, I worried about the characters in Battle star Galactica, a show Mike and I have been watching (don't judge us...and, yes, I judge us.). Captain Apollo has been depressed since his plane crashed in the fight with the Cylons, and Dr. Baltar inexplicably gave a nuclear weapon to the enemy. Why? Why, why why? Not to mention, the President of the Colonies has been dying of cancer and there is no person as capable of leading this rag-tag bunch of survivors.
And then my worried moved back to the break-up. And then back to Captain Apollo.
I know this is ridiculous, but both subjects felt heavy and oppressive. In the stillness of our bedroom, I wiped tears from my face and cuddled up next to sleeping Mike (and no, I am not pregnant again).
Again, and again, I come up against this thing in myself that grasps at control, at feeling like I can organize and shape forces beyond my ability to manipulate. Like love between others. Like the whims of fantasy writers. Like what will happen tomorrow and the next day and the next. And again, and again I have to relinquish. Loosen my grip. Remember that such control is an illusion I can't afford to maintain. Remember what Jeremiah says about trusting, about becoming a tree by the waters who cannot cease from yielding fruit, her leaves unceasingly green.
Even though I still wish that my brother-in-law would take one for the team. And that Dr. Baltar would stop-it-already with his Cylon sympathies.
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