My first post since…forEVER. I know.
Trust me, I know.
I lost my mojo. I prolly put the thing in a “safe place”…and now I can’t find it.
Story of my…everything.
See, The Black Dog is larger than he was before, and I’ve been struggling with a few things that are, apparently, bigger than I’d previously thought they were.
SO big, in fact, that even #gladitude really hasn’t been fun.
*duh duh duhhhhhhhhhhhnnnnnnnnnnnn*
So, I realized that I must find a new coping mechanism, and STAT!
[enter Cosmos*, stage right]
* but not the asshat one…
I’ve been really enjoying watching documentaries on everything about the Cosmos that I can find. I’m currently about to jump into Youtube videos, now that I think I’ve exhausted my PVR and Netflix.
Here’s the thing: I (well, “we”, but this IS totally about “Me.”) know that I am a statistical anomaly in the universe. This doesn’t make me feel insignificant (which, when fighting The Black Dog, is entirely possible)…rather…it makes me feel uber-special.
Further, it makes me feel uber-special in a life I don’t want to live.
[enter collective *gasp*, stage right]
I’m tired. I’m tired of cleaning and organizing and maintaining and hurting and crawling up the stairs and of not being heard and rarely anyone calls me my preferred name and people don’t bother to check its spelling and errands and driving hither and thither and appointments and pissing in cups and being poked by needles and watching my husband process stuff too hard for him and of bullies and of triggers and of not telling the depth of how sad I feel on the inside watching a life that is, on occasion, simply too much.
So, I look to the stars. To my own “stardust” body. I listen to the statistical probability of my very existence and…
It permits me the escapism to not have to think about all of those dastardly things.
It permits me to absolutely fall in love with my very existence.
So, I figured I was kind of hiding in a “cosmic bubble” when I do this.
I don’t need to giveth a shiteth about what people think of me, what they’re saying about me (cuz when you have successes, and share them…it’s like breeding a kegger of assholes) or what they’re doing without me.
I don’t have to think about health. I don’t have to think about mothering. I don’t have to think about the chaos outside my front door as our condo complex is being prepped for repaving…on the fourth week of five.
Well, sure as shit…cosmic bubbles are REAL!
“This VLT image of the Thor’s Helmet Nebula was taken on the occasion of ESO’s 50th Anniversary in 2012. The helmet is a cosmic bubble, blown as the wind from the bright, massive star near the bubble’s centre sweeps through the surrounding molecular cloud.”
No. Shit. 😀
Cosmic bubbles make “Me.” very “Happy.”
That’s the best kind of bubble, right?
No expectations. Clear boundaries.
It’s one no one can pop.