I've determined this. It's ok to be angry. As much as my southern pleasantries engrained in me fight against it, it's absolutely fine to be mad. Or sad. Or even rageful.
So I'm mad.
I'm mad at everything and nothing. I'm mad at silly things like my closet and my nail polish. I'm mad that my refrigerator is always empty even though I actually prefer it that way. I'm mad that my Pandora station is bad today. I'm mad that someone in my office has that "ding-ding" text signal that belongs to some of the kryptonite on my phone. I'm mad that I wore tights today when it's 70+ degrees outside and the perfect day to finally wear these:
I'm angry at boys for being dumb. And I'm also angry at the boys who aren't dumb because then I can't blame everything on "boys are dumb". I'm angry that friends move. I'm angry that I can't take everyone I care about on vacation with me. I'm angry that a Reese egg is so good, yet so bad. I'm angry that it's that time of year when everyone everywhere is pregnant.
I'm furious that I can't fix things. I'm furious that people I care about are going through things beyond their control. I'm furious at people I've never met for not thinking major decisions through before affecting other people's lives. I'm furious that people hide things like anger and sadness because "everything happens for a reason" or "God's in control". Even if those statements are real and true, those hidden nuggets are valid.
All that to say... it's also ok that I'm mad. It's ok to be angry. And it's just fine to be furious. Without these rageful feelings, I wouldn't realize how much I cared about these same things. I might take someone for granted without feeling such livid irritation on their behalf. I wouldn't know how important things are to me.
I did my first 5k of the season this weekend, and I'm mostly happy that I finished it. I run regularly. But I run at my own pace on my own schedule as I feel it and as my body allows it on any given day. I refuse to let my medical issues stand in the way of things I want to accomplish, but at the same time I have to listen to what my body is telling me. Instead of complaining about my limitations, I'll celebrate the fact that I know how to read the signs and push through accordingly.
My time was slow, but the Grimaldi's pizza celebration with some of the DTG Run Club (led by the fabulous Liz Schwarzwalder) was a wonderful celebratory way to start the running season!!
They past week has been... hmm, well, in a word... weird.
I'm not sure I've unpacked it all, so if I began writing about it I would seem like a manic crazy person. (Kinda like my online dating profile which I should share sometime as it is chock-full of nuttiness). But I digress. Suffice it to say for now, it's been a weird few days.
I feel like The Universe is trying to tell me something, but I'm not getting it. I want to. But I'm not. My blinders are up for some reason and they are stuck so hard that I'm not seeing anything. Maybe that's part of the journey. Maybe I need to rip them off.
Which leads me to this. Stephen Sondheim's "Company". My go to when things are out of sorts. Remember this one? Yeah. That one. Coincidentally a 4-performance engagement is being done with the NY Philharmonic this weekend. I chalked it up to not being able to get a ticket since it's star-studded cast without selling my body and soul, and it's been sold out for weeks. Stubhub is no help. Theatre connections are fruitless. So I've been listening to my favorite numbers from it allowing that to speak to me, but somehow without filling me up like it usually does. Also listening to stories from friends at the rehearsal studio where Neil Pats himself is rehearsing for this weekend's shin-dig.
Out of the blue, sitting at work, I decided to check the Philharmonic's website to see if something opened up. Lo and behold, it did. A single somewhat reasonably priced ticket sitting there for the plucking. All mine if I choose to take it. The Universe at work. Or coincidence. Or neither.