It's an Orientation

5 weeks but I can stop counting now because this is just life in this body a middle aged body looking at other middle aged bodies trying to see myself.  Body consciousness is not even looking at a mirror for feedback because I know how my spaces are moving within.

What happens now?  I am delighted, delirious, desiring of nothing to be happy just wanting to bring that happy feeling to the things I touch.

Trying to see the waves coming at me.  If you don't see them you can't catch them.  They can't get through.

I'm in love with this garlic bread, I say
I'm in love with you, he says

Are you manipulative? A friend asked me as we walked the gardens.
Am I? I don't know.  I can't tell.  I used to have a big case of lawyer's brain but it's going away now so I'm not assessing risks and trying to come up with ways to protect my self interest.

What is your earthquake preparedness plan?  Asks my daughter.  It's for a science project.
It's to hide in doorways, I say.  No actually it's to let the insurance companies deal with it.  No actually we have a contracts with JetsforLife and they come and helipad you outta there in case of earthquake and then fly you to Twisp.
Really?  She asks.
No.  Can you just google earthquake preparedness and write down whatever makes sense.  I am feeling embarrassed that I don't have a preparedness.
She says she can't because that would be cheating.
Yes.  Ok then what will you say?
That you have no plan.
Right.  That's exactly right.  Come what may.  

4 weeks into life without avoiding

The further I get from my prior secret smoker shame-life, the harder it is to remember it.  Who was that woman who snuck frequently onto the patio and breathed deep, sought peace.  Or hid from the kids and from her feelings.  I felt unsexy because Lover literally recoiled from me after I'd been on the patio.

I have a lot of gas.  This is also very unsexy.  I am not used to being the one who is releasing noxious gases into the air from my anus.

I'm in a is-this-perimenopause or is-this-a-for-real-dark-night that I'd rather not talk about.  Maturity.  What does that mean?  First, not believing that maturity is boring.   How many stories about middle class progression are there?  A few.  This is 40.  Others?

I am 44.
I keep seeing 444.
There are 44 new sunspots on my face from this summer.

I am a tiny bit....

Lot bit

Upheaved.

Which is fine.  In time.  Since I am meeting someone.  I am about to understand.  I am about to see.  Or else there will be an increase in upheave in which case that will be.

Now I will go dine with the smaller child.

Day 9

The sourness of the stomach as it turns over a new leaf
I have the opening to become someone new
I still hover around the girls on the bench with a small white and gold box by her side
Or the one on the street 

Day 20something

Its between 3 and 4 weeks and I think I am A OK.  Except when I am deliriously happy or in the depths of despair.  I am noticing this more since I started taking 5HTP, a precursor to seratonin that also helps gut motility as I haven't got any.

This thought made me sad.

Sitting in the parking lot of the mall makes me happy, or actually sad.  Or something.

Last night I had the urge to shop til I drop.

However I cannot because I am a responsible nature adult with responsibilities and commitments to others whom I love.

Seeing the "expression" oil on dharmaceuticals made me cry.

Reading about Hillary on a ragmag made me cry.  She asks herself, "do I still love him?"

Shouldn't it be:  "do I still love?"

Last night when I asked for a cuddle he said of course, that's why people get married.  I wanted to argue about this but then I wanted the cuddle more. Then I could relax and go to sleep.  How wonderful.

I hid when I heard him coming up the stairs.  I wasn't dressed yet and didn't want him to see me like this - distended stomach, like the character in a Gabriel Garcia Marques novel, requiring daily enemas just to get by.

It's not that bad though it also is sort of worse.

I was excited to read that Karl Ove had also quit smoking using Allen Carr but then I read that he went back to smoking.  Not my hero.  It is easy to quit but then you or I have to deal with you or I because we don't have that lovely comfort of a secret affair with ciggies.

Eventually we have to give up everything til there is naught.  It is better to do this while still living - I do not know why.  Only that giving up is a practice now.  And I hardly know myself.  But I do like what I see in the mirror.  It is one of those times - when I have to cry all my tears.

Later I will laugh all my laughter.