Have you ever had to think about being happy? Not so much in terms of "gosh, I wish I was" as much as just trying to be okay with the fact that you kind of are? That is sort of where I am in the last few days. I have been sleeping exceptionally well. I really like my new position, my new co-workers....being in new surroundings seems to have given me permission to open up more, be more friendly, set a lighter tone to myself that then lingers after I leave the work place. Being in an environment of success makes me in turn feel successful. I want to embody and represent what the Cooper Clinic stands for...healthy living. If I have to be alive, I want to do it right.
There lingers under the surface of me though at times a sense of detachment..a feeling that I am watching myself from under water and far, far away. As if there is the face plate that is Sheri, interacting with family, friends, my lover....and the real Sheri, who is quiet and contemplative and unsure whether to resume embodiment of her own life once more. Love, fear and anger are so closely related, so tangled up inside that "real" Sheri. It makes me quiet. It makes me rage. It petrifies me. I could not (literally...literally could not) cope with another loss at this time and I can spend so much time thinking about and fearing that that it paralyzes me. I have this happy surface to the world..and it is genuine....very genuine...but frail and tentative. It is like a thin, watery soup to a starving person. Its warm and nourishing but not at all full bodied and doesn't have much staying power yet. It does not take very much to bring me beneath the surface and into withdrawal, depression or fury. Moments of "what the point" are still very much with me. I have to fight against them. The anger needs very little ignition to get going. The depression needs very little fuel to take hold of me. I can feel fine and motivated one minute...and completely without air the next. And all energy leaves and I want nothing more but to crawl back into bed....and then I think no further into the day or week or month. It frightens and bothers me the way I can look at earth and life and truly, truly imagine myself not here. And not fear that. In fact, at times, truly embracing that idea. Oh if I could just be gone without it hurting anyone! Nothingness can have its own appeal.
I found a video from 1995 and 1996 of Joseph and Nick. Alex was not even born yet. That night I dreamed of Joseph as a little guy, 18 months old or so. And in my dream I had given him away to another family, who was raising him. I would visit and assure them he was their son..but I would not call him by the name they chose (which I can't remember now) and I would secretly whisper to him "I am your mother. I am your mother", putting on a helpful happy face so that family would not make me leave him but all the while plotting to get him back. I don't know what it means. I just remember the feeling.
I need to go. I can't find my keys or my wallet. Little things that just derail me and make the day seem so heavy and so long. I am anxious to get to work. They all think I am a good addition to the team there. I worried a lot that my weight would make me a poor fit, but it doesn't seem to matter...though I am easily so far the fattest person I have seen working there. When I am there, I am successful. I know what I need to do every minute of the day. It makes life so much easier. A definite starting and stopping point. If only all of life were that clear cut.