madshutterbug (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
madshutterbug) wrote2005-10-05 05:23 pm
madshutterbug) wrote2005-10-05 05:23 pm
Entry tags:
365
Not all anniversaries are of pleasant occurences.
Over time, I've become more comfortable with the knowledge that I don't do anniversary well; and that I do anniversary all too well. Accepting that bit of contradiction meant that those unpleasant occurence anniversaries took somewhat less sway over my life. But only somewhat. I still tend to underestimate how much impact they might carry. That they will carry the impact, though, that I no longer deny. It does help in my little goal of keeping on keeping on.
Today might well have been better spent staying on the Ranch; away from slings and arrows of outrageous fortune and in the company of the Border Collie Bros and Mom, and within enough privacy to remember and let go. On the other hand, I chose not to do that. Throughout the day I didn't feel like killing anyone, though I didn't particularly enjoy the company of my colleagues at hospital either. I didn't enjoy the reminder that I'm still dealing with being in a situation I'm ready to be out of; nor of the reminder implicit in the day that the situation is also of the same age, as it were. It is good to know my skills in that situation are strong enough to overcome even this personal barrier... no one suffered because I couldn't provide my part.
And, shortly before starting to write this I found a side-path, a short little trip through a pleasant virtual garden of sorts, where another human (who it may be deduced is finding some similar elements of A Day Like This in their life) and I exchanged some rather more positive energy. Enough to get the distance, change the viewpoint, and move along.
A year is done; 365. Tomorrow starts another one. In a couple months, it'll be ten years done, and start another one. Not long after that particular date, by a more widely accepted reckoning it will be 2005 done, and another one starts. Pick your own New Years Day; we all possess a lot of them.
Over time, I've become more comfortable with the knowledge that I don't do anniversary well; and that I do anniversary all too well. Accepting that bit of contradiction meant that those unpleasant occurence anniversaries took somewhat less sway over my life. But only somewhat. I still tend to underestimate how much impact they might carry. That they will carry the impact, though, that I no longer deny. It does help in my little goal of keeping on keeping on.
Today might well have been better spent staying on the Ranch; away from slings and arrows of outrageous fortune and in the company of the Border Collie Bros and Mom, and within enough privacy to remember and let go. On the other hand, I chose not to do that. Throughout the day I didn't feel like killing anyone, though I didn't particularly enjoy the company of my colleagues at hospital either. I didn't enjoy the reminder that I'm still dealing with being in a situation I'm ready to be out of; nor of the reminder implicit in the day that the situation is also of the same age, as it were. It is good to know my skills in that situation are strong enough to overcome even this personal barrier... no one suffered because I couldn't provide my part.
And, shortly before starting to write this I found a side-path, a short little trip through a pleasant virtual garden of sorts, where another human (who it may be deduced is finding some similar elements of A Day Like This in their life) and I exchanged some rather more positive energy. Enough to get the distance, change the viewpoint, and move along.
A year is done; 365. Tomorrow starts another one. In a couple months, it'll be ten years done, and start another one. Not long after that particular date, by a more widely accepted reckoning it will be 2005 done, and another one starts. Pick your own New Years Day; we all possess a lot of them.
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Cos' yanno, you are one of the few people for whom I just might be induced to go back to Baja Georgia.
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