Aren’t upswings awesome? I love the world. Last week I wanted to dropkick the universe off the face of the planet, as I customarily feel during my cyclical downswing. In approximately four weeks I’ll have my combat boots on again. But today, I wholly embrace the sunshine with joy, the green grass with ecstasy, and the complete dickery of so much of the world with a tolerance and love that rivals that of Mother Theresa. Well, perhaps she wasn’t feeling this kind of love.
Because I think I could totally love some complete dickery right now, too.
Aren’t upswings awesome? I’m already eating and sleeping less; it’s been twenty-four hours since the downswing broke, but there’s so much blogging to do. My sluggish brain has just turned back on and the colors just turned back up. My therapist, in preparation for last week, was coaching me on how to pad my life with things that normally bring me excessive joy, things that are extra special; to go through the motions of keeping/using/wearing/eating/listening to them anyway. The concerted effort, like making a house ready for a hurricane, actually buffered the fall a bit. It wasn’t so horrendous; I wasn’t as miserable in my own skin.
But I find now that I don’t have a tether. What can I pad myself with as a reminder that what goes up really MUST come down, and that it would be wise to stop throwing care/caution/time/obligation/myself into the air?
Aren’t upswings awesome? Aren’t they? Eddie Izzard has a discourse on the gross overuse of that word, citing in particular how “awesome” an event like the lunar landing was versus how “awesome” we’ll label our tasty hotdog. But bigger than the burden of an empty word is the burden of a word that bears extra sardonicism.