Standing on the Edge

For months I have been on the edge of something. Something like depression but not quite. Something on the verge of dulled apathy but not exactly. For months I have been barely able to muster even a small smile. for myself. It was almost as if pure happiness, exalted excitement, or even honest contentment was out of my reach, just beyond my reaching and straining fingertips. It was if I had been standing on the edge of evil and had the devilish urge to jump. But. In a way, it was if I had. I knew I hit rock bottom when I actually dreamed about the D word. I knew I was in trouble with myself and moi when isolation sounded delicious. Never more had I been such the Ice Queen.

I’m thawing. I have a new edge to stand upon. Joy. I’m on the edge of excitement. For starters, work. I finally hired a crew. A good one. This means I eat my spring break vaca and spend it guiding new librarians. But, what newbies they are! They are young, exceedingly smart, funny, and oh-so-charming. They will bring a zest for the profession I haven’t seen in a long, long time. Can you tell I am excited to work with them?
Home. Kisa and I met with the kitchen guy. For a budget less than we expected we are getting a kitchen double in size. Double in function. “Two kitchens in one,” the contractor quipped. Indeed. Mis en place. Everything in its place. Spice racks and pendant lights. Island and peninsula. Granite and hickory and maple. Stainless steel and brushed copper. My color scheme is designed around a handmade olive oil carafe. Insane. These are material things I am gushing about, but here’s the thing. This new kitchen will foster a passion for cooking that I have held at bay. Instead of being frustrated by the cramped and inconvenient space I will grant my culinary imagination wings.
And finally, love. Kisa knows I hate Valentine’s Day. Knows I want to be loved on an ordinary Tuesday rather than a prescribed Hallmark day two weeks into February. But. But! But, yet last night I came home to a card that said it all. “Grateful.” Didn’t I once say I felt taken for granted? Didn’t I once scream that? Wasn’t my meltdown all about no one noticing me, my laundry, my cooking, my cleaning? Me. Me. Me. He’s grateful for me. That’s all I needed. Tonight we celebrate with Rebecca Correia at the microphone. Cannot wait.

I’m on the edge of believing in myself. I’m on the edge of coming back to being me, myself and moi. It’s about time.

Categories: Confessional, Hilltop, Librarianship, life, renovations | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

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