While I have been a miserable failure in nearly every area of my life, making the same mistakes again and again, impossibly inept at seeing or selling myself, ridiculously incompetent at standing up for or protecting myself from vultures, vampires, and viragoes, the one thing at which I have been a success is forging friendships with truly remarkable, loving, forgiving, insightful people. Oh sure, I have miscalculated now and again, but, the thing is, here I am, where I am, and I have a collection of really fantastic people who love me, a family of friends.
The front-line consists of some marvelous folks, and last night I had dinner with two of them, during which I confessed some things I really needed to get off my soul, and after which I visited another friend to finish off the leftover wine from dinner. During the course of the day, prior to dinner, I’d been texting yet another of the front line (currently out of town) who pointed out to me that I had been suffering very difficult depressions for the past few summers — something I had somehow missed realizing.
And in addition to that front-line, there are troops of remarkable gifts, some I see once every five years, some I have never actually met, who support and encourage and comfort and buoy me through my days. One of these, alarmed by my Twitter posts, helped me get to the place where I confessed that I just no longer felt strong enough to watch/listen to/read the news, and so, determined that it would be best to focus on the OLDS.
That in mind, today whilst chauffeuring my dearest Mother to her weekly hair appointment, I whimsically entertained the notion of chopping away all my hair — as had been done to me from childhood through third grade — and since my Mother’s hairdresser had a few extra moments, I did it. I feel shorn of something — and, okay, I’m going with it. Everything OLD is new again.
I need big changes. This is a start.