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2011
The Big Hand Theory of Life Improvement
Lately, I am just over it. I’m over my job, over my love life, over being sad about Lieu, over trying to think of what to do with all of this unwanted free time. Over the city and all the people in it who never come over to cuddle on the couch and make out. Everything I try to do feels Sisyphean: I can’t make myself go to the grocery store because I just want to go home, and if I do go I’ll just spend too much money anyway, and then when I finally get home there won’t be any parking and I’ll have to double-park and unload everything and then go find parking and come in and put everything away and then do last night’s dishes (don’t judge) and THEN make myself dinner.
I don’t fucking think so.
And this is just ONE of the things I currently can’t deal with. The full list encompasses…everything.
I understand, intellectually, that this hardly qualifies as a problem. But I also know that it defeats me every day, and I go home and order Thai food that I don’t even want and eat too much of it, and then I really am too poor to go to the grocery store and also too ugly to be seen in public, and now what am I supposed to do with all of that free time, again?
I lose myself in fantasies of what I always think of as The Big Hand, a life event that comes out of the clear blue sky and plucks me up and Changes Everything. Look, a job offer in another city with relo expenses paid, and I have to give my two weeks’ notice immediately! Hey, a $100,000 inheritance that magically appears without anyone dying! A baby that needs a home, right this second, and circumstance dictates that I’m the clear choice! I meet a man at the farmer’s market who sweeps me off my feet and we spend the weekend in bed and then elope to Vegas! A publisher emails me and says they want me to write a book about my paralyzing, throat-closing fear of being alone and unloved forever, and make it kind of funny in places!
My family involuntarily commits me to a really tranquil and lovely mental hospital for a month, where I am forced to be quiet and read and write aaalll day, and do nothing but practice yoga and talk about my feelings and eat beautifully prepared low-calorie meals, and at the end I have lost half my body weight and found half a novel inside me!
The Big Hand seems like the only hope, because I am doing a terrible job of improving things on my own. I have the strength and resiliency of a piece of wet tissue. And I am just so tired.
Fair warning: at no point in this blog post am I going to say anything insightful or uplifting. Sorry about that.
It’s just that…I don’t want to do any of the stuff that I need to do. Start this awful work project that is already late. Get ready for my trip to San Diego next week. Begin cultivating a healthy and active lifestyle. Feed myself. Charm someone into loving me. None of it sounds like it is even remotely possible.
I’ve been at work really late every night this week, and while I do have an incredible amount of work I need to do, I’m not here because I’m doing it; I’m here because I can’t think of a good enough reason to collect my belongings and make my way home. I’m weighed down by the unimaginable difficulty of needing to stop and buy gas.
I know that none of this is insurmountable. My life is not very hard, and I am very lucky in many ways. I know this, but knowing it just makes me feel bad about not being able to manage even the little bit that is mine to manage. I must not be a very good person if this is the best I can do, and if people really knew how useless I was, well.
This is what living with menacing, hateful brain chemistry is like sometimes, I guess. I’m way fucking over that, too.
Insert pithy ending here where I tie everything together in a poignant manner and reassure everyone that I’m really fine, just having a bad day. I’m too tired to write a real one.
It IS a lot to manage. It IS. Reading over the things, I feel tired and overwhelmed. And hungry for Thai food.
I can’t imagine how tired I’d be if I had 5 kids!
The Big Hand Theory is a very clever way to put it.
I’ve felt very much the same way, I think. I feel darned similar to it right now when I was planning to go out dancing but I’m too tired and over everything to clean myself up, let alone interact with people.
For me, the Big Hand dream tends to be winning the lottery. I don’t buy tickets often, but maybe two or three times a year I will. Even though my life is in many respects a great life, I still just wish I could escape more often than I’d like.
But here’s a thing for whatever it’s worth. I read this post and I think, “She captured the feeling perfectly and put it better than most people could. What a writer!”
Even though there are probably people of varying talents and skills who also go through similar feelings (we of the lame brain chemistry), I feel like you might be a tiny bit better off than the poor souls who suffer without any viable means of expressing it. They are the ones without your facility with words, nor any other creative means. I’m sure they exist and I’m sure they’d envy you.
But I’ve nothing pithy to say here either, I’m afraid. I’ve been on the receiving end of too many attempts to try. I will say, I like your writing. I will say, I hope it is just a bad day and you feel better sooner than later. And thank you for sharing with us, your password-privileged readers.
Paul, thank you. What a kind and thoughtful comment. I really appreciate it.
Oh, I’m glad this is no longer protected. I was too shy to request one. And…and…I feel this way, too, sometimes, even with the kids-marriage-blah blah. Sometimes it is too much to just EAT, much less cook something for other bodies. Sometimes when I think of what I have done to my career by staying home with these urchins, I want a Big Hand to come and get me a publisher and a book deal, or a great job with benefits that works around my kids’ schedules and isn’t too demanding but just demanding enough to be fulfilling. I don’t want to figure out commutes and daycares and how I’ll get stuff done. Sometimes I just want to sit on the couch watching bad movies and eating chips for dinner. Sometimes I want to be my husband, or a man. I think it is harder for women because we are expected to have it all, and do it all, and be grateful. It is a crock.
I know how you feel. I felt like that for three months post-dumping. The fourth month started to get better, but I have setbacks. I slept half the day away today out of lack of interest in doing anything. I finally felt fed up enough that I got up and will go to the gym before they close.
I’m 34 and I decided that (a) as long as I live I’m never too old to look for love, and (b) once I freeze my eggs next year I’m not giving up on having kids till I’m 45 (even if people think I’m weird). I just started a book that said the only way to find love is to persevere. I know you’re not ready for that yet but you will get your life force back, I promise.
Oh and did you read this?
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/09/25/fashion/sometimes-its-not-you-or-the-math-modern-love.html?_r=1&scp=1&sq=sara%20eckel&st=cse
I did read it–my sister sent it to me right before I wrote this post–in fact, it was kind of the straw that broke the blogger’s back on Friday. I KNOW it is not a depressing article–it’s very interesting, and I would have sent it to me, too, and my sister sent it for the same reason you posted it; it’s a slightly different perspective on the problem I chew on here over and over. But something about it just did me in. (But again, that is my problem and not the article’s; you are right to think that it’s just the kind of thing I should/would want to read.)
Paul’s comment that “Even though there are probably people of varying talents and skills who also go through similar feelings (we of the lame brain chemistry), I feel like you might be a tiny bit better off than the poor souls who suffer without any viable means of expressing it” is so great.
We all have those kinds of fantasies. They’re good to hold on to, so enjoy. And you don’t have to do GREAT THINGS IN EVERY LIFE-CATEGORY every day. Maybe just one healthy thing (take a vitamin and have the Thai food, get some fresh air and sunshine and have the Thai food), one professional thing (whatever that would be for your job/career), one “you” thing (a blog post, a few sentences drafted, whatever), etc. “Better days will come, as my dad says.
I’ve never posted before but I feel compelled after this post. You write so damn well. I can’t even tell you how many times I’ve read one of your posts and caught myself literally exhaling, like I’ve just had the wind knocked out of me. Your posts are so powerful and hilarious and raw. You are such a talented writer and thank you so much for sharing.
i don’t have anything to offer but these two lines:
1) that was a beautiful statement of an ugly state of mind.
2) it sucks beyond belief to be in this place. i’m kinda with you. here’s hoping for a small part in the clouds here and there soon…
Is there an >30 singles chat room that you love? I feel better when I read the comments of your readers, knowing there are others out there. I wish we had a virtual place to commiserate.
Ah, yes. The insurmountable exhaustion phase. They always leave this one out of the grieving process, but it is oh so real and an integral a part of the fun. Only your literary/ blogarary genius could paint the picture as you do. You have talent, woman.
Oh, I SO get this. I was just telling someone (ok, let’s be honest, not just “someone”, it was my counselor) that yesterday – that some days, I just don’t care. At all. If anything gets done, if the bills are late, if the laundry is clean, I just don’t care. I’m tired and it’s too much and I’m tired of trying to convince myself every single day it’s going to get better or easier.
Anyway, you are an amazingly talented writer. I’m so glad I found your blog.
Thank you so much, Kristina.
Are you me? All of this is sounding so familiar.
I don’t THINK I’m you, but I am often wrong, as you will see if you keep reading…