Soapbox Diner
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Tantrums have their places, too. |
06.25.07 |
There are many things about the last two years that I do not miss. I do not miss the fighting and the tension. Nor do I miss the constant spotlight of "you can do better" attention that did not accept me as I was. The list of things that was wrong with the last two years is very, very long. But that is not what I am here for tonight.
I am here because of the things that I did have then that are no longer. I miss the chatter and the activity. I miss the company that was here without me having to ask. I miss the structure of "having to". I no longer have that, and it is a weakness in me that does not structure itself. I wake when the sunlight comes in, and I move when the urge suggests. There is no bustle, and there are no ramifications if things to not get done. Sometimes I cook and eat, but I often don't. And there is no one here to scold me one way or the other.
At times this existence feels so without purpose, and there are no rewards. There are no pithy double entendres, no baudy belly laughs. Driving home tonight, I had such an overwhelming sense of condensed expression pressing to escape my internal confines, but it lanquished, shrugged a resigned shoulder, and relinquished itself to saddened discontent, where I bask right now.
I suppose all this is a reaction to the trial and the foster licensing process. I do not want to go to court. And I do not like exposing every misstep or stumble of my life to dispassionate strangers. I do not like all the faucets of my live laid out on the table to be examined as a continuum of error that has culminated in . . . what? Just me, flaws and all. But the good, where is it?
And now I wait, laid out stripped, and await a call from same said dispassionate stranger that will tell me if I meet their muster. Is there enough good enough?
I suppose I should be telling myself that validation should never be external. I suppose that is what the happy person healthy, wealthy and wise. Heh. I don't like being a grown up sometimes.
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