The interesting part of the story is the failure to plan for misfortune. So often I find living within the seclusion of positivity's walls reveals another layer of ignorance you didn't realize you were capable of. We plan for things to get better. We plan for things to go the way we want, ideally. I'm not so concerned with the failure to plan for misfortune to necessarily be considered a "failure," I just choose to ignore it.
For weeks I've functioned solely by, what I can only assume can be considered as, turning a blind eye. There was a distinct need for me to be emotionally available, and where I couldn't provide that for myself, I provided to others with what I had left to offer. Throughout this time, I questioned if staying busy was the key to my sanity, despite that being one of my biggest pet peeves. A former friend of mine would consistently ignore the situations you'd assume would need immediate attention by keeping busy with other things, and that always bothered me. I co-existed with my own types of these situations while also throwing myself entirely into work. There was not a single moment I wasn't thinking about something. There was not a single moment I wasn't worried, stressed, or consumed with something other than what I was doing.
I can only rationalize this point in my life as this being the most "adulting" I've ever done. I worked for 2 or so weeks straight, with Easter as a mandatory day off, and overnight shifts tricking me into thinking the sun never existed in the first place. In the midst of all of it, my best friend gave birth to her baby boy (who was due in July, if that gives you any idea of how unexpected this was), lost that baby boy within the day he experienced life, and has found herself in the process of recovering from a c-section that left her not much other than ashes that once embodied a future. That's one out of two losses we experienced within the week, and the one that should have hit the hardest, but my lack of allowing myself to grieve for the loss of a nephew I had already bought clothes and books for turned into me never grieving period. We lost a family friend in the same week we lost the baby, and the outpouring of love and support for him and his family could make a heart of stone have a pulse. Although unexpected I, again, feel as though I didn't allow myself to process the loss and find time to grieve.
Sandwiched in between all of these heart wrenching milestones in my adult life, I also began the process of finding a new car, applying for a credit card, and re-evaluating what my intent is in every area of my life. It doesn't seem like a lot, but pair that with moments I should have been grieving during moments I should have been working, during moments between 7:58 and 8 am where I almost started crying from being so tired during moments I realized I didn't remember the drive home during moments I tried to sit down and write this and couldn't....... and it all feels like I dropped Mentos in a Diet Coke bottle and super glued the cap shut.
I asked for a few days off in order to "celebrate" my birthday 4 weekends late. A few friends traveled to me, we went hiking, did some painting, and ate out way too much. I had hoped I'd come out of the weekend feeling like my heart was full of love. Again, the interesting part of the story is the failure to plan for misfortune. I've had worse weekends. I also know better than to set expectations. The hike is exactly what I needed, with a few of the people that mean most to me. Those that mean the most to me that were unable to make it, I was in contact with at some point within these 4 days. Being in the presence of all of these humans that make my life better just by being in it was a breath of fresh air. However, I've never felt more like a child while simultaneously feeling like an adult. I found myself shutting down quickly, and becoming annoyed with how much I noticed faces staring at screens. I'm guilty of it too, but something about simply trying to have a moment and connect with someone while their head is in cyber space, consistently, is very frustrating.
I didn't expect to leave the weekend feeling like I don't have enough of a personality to keep a good conversation going, or like I'm not interesting enough to focus more than 2 minutes worth of attention towards. That's when I realized that the adulting I thought I was doing never really stopped, and that there are worse things to complain about, especially when I do try to find the light in most situations. I've got good friends, even if they're not present. Mentally or physically. I've got the intent to find what I'm feeling and what I'm thinking through words, and if being solitary during these moments and feeling lame for not being the life of the party is what I get for the brain I've been given, so be it. I can't rationalize a good reason for the losses I've experienced. I refuse to accept "things happens for a reason," as a plausible answer at this point. A co-worker spent some time letting me talk these thoughts out to her, to which she came to a story she recalled about a woman who has a son, aged 4, and she has terminal cancer. She too refuses to accept "things happen for a reason" as an answer, and found solace in half that quote. Things happen.
We don't plan for things to happen. We don't plan for our nephews to die at 23 hours old, or old friends to allow cancer to take them without a fight. We don't plan for a sort of misfortune that would make anyone turn their head to avoid the blow. We don't plan to almost pass out on the way to see the view. By planning, it feels like you're welcoming something negative to happen in a time and space where, ideally, only positives would come from your experiences. Most of my writing "career" (gag me. not the right word, but you get it) has come from negative experiences. Things go wrong, and I write to make sense of it all. This is no different, but I can promise you that this is not at all the sort of thing I planned for.