Saturday, June 14, 2014

Antithesis


My husband came home last night with a little white box beautifully tied with a shell pink ribbon, each miniature pastry inside a perfect sculpture. I didn't touch a single one, they looked so pretty all together like that. My man also made me stuffed dates wrapped with prosciutto, and poured fizzy Prosecco into the pair of champagne flutes we got as a wedding present, the ones that are his favorites that we use only when it's just us two, and we had a fine evening together, vanquishing my melancholia, which he knew had been advancing all that day.

I love that he cared.

But this morning, on waking, the weirdness again, the unmoored feeling, the free floating sadness whose source I cannot place. It's as if I'm drifting out in space all by my lonesome, despite all evidence to the contrary. I know it's my own brain that is tricking me, my own internal chemistry giving rise to these brooding thoughts, this sense of being lost on the plain.

Going to watch Fifa World Cup soccer with my man today. Going to let his passion for the game wash over me. Passion is the antithesis of inertia. Maybe.

I love him.


12 comments:

  1. Oh, the thoughtfulness of that gift! And the gift of knowing your moods and wanting to help.
    What more in this world can anyone ask?
    I, like Elizabeth, hope these feelings which I know much too much about can wash away to be be replaced with lighter ones.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Mary, I know you get this. I'm am trying to just rock with it and not fight it, let it flow on through. xo.

      Delete
  2. Recognizing the feelings for what they are is a big step....

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Not city gal, I think you're right. It helps keep the catastrophic thinking to a minimum. Thanks for being here.

      Delete
  3. you know i know

    breathe deep and it will pass

    xoxoxo

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Michelle!!!!! You have no idea how good it is to see you back here. xoxoxo

      Delete
  4. It's wonderful that he takes care of you. Just knowing that he's aware and doing his best to dispel your feelings must go a long way.

    Re. your note on my blog -- I'm glad I'm helping you revise your opinion of London! I'm sure it seemed dark and scary when you were 5 and coming from the sunny Caribbean. But for someone who loves New York as much as you do, London is a natural fit, I think. You should visit again sometime!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Steve, it really does help. It's like having a partner in the sandbox, which is what marriage still feels like to me. And I am really beginning to think of revisiting London. I do think it would strike me altogether differently now. As I mentioned, you are a big part of that!

      Delete
  5. You have said it all so clearly, the way it feels. I know this feeling too. Sometimes lately doing yoga I start to cry for no reason. I try to just let it flow through. Sit down with a pen. I'm glad he is there to be so gentle with you. Be gentle with you, too.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you, dear Brittany. Crying doing yoga seems like an emotionally cleansing thing. I hope it is that for you. Love.

      Delete

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...