Firstly, I have to tell you that your Cartwheels incident has warmed my heart and if you end up getting together with who I hope is a worthwhile dame, I will be absolutely ecstatic for you! Frankly, it would be a Notebook worthy story, where I could actually bawl my eyes out at your second wedding. I would cry my heart out….this is not something I normally do, but in this case I would make an exception. This brings me to the emotional rollercoaster I have been on for the past several weeks.
PMS!!! I have no idea how that could last for 6 weeks. Ok, so one thing you need to know about me is that for the last several years I have not really been that in tune to my emotional side. I still love people, enjoy life, but overall when it comes handling life situations, I’m generally logical self composed human being. For whatever reason, perhaps I can blame some bizarre chemical in all the spider bites I endured on my trip; I have turned into a raging emotional lunatic. I seem to be crying all the time (not at work, thank god). I cry when I’m at home, I tear up at the sight of children and don’t even ask me what happens when I see the Dog Whisperer. Let’s just say, I’m a genuine mess.
So, this may have started on my trip. I have to tell you that it was an absolute wonderful time, and by wonderful I mean ridiculously hard. I was traveling to India with my grandfather to help him out with his charity. His vision is to open up a school in the village, so we did some great work while we were there with the local community and are now working with amazing team out there to help out the wonderful children in the ridiculously small village outside of Delhi. While I was on my trip, I had a LOT of time to think. I was surrounded by poverty and was very removed from any form of technology (electricity and running water count in this case). It got me thinking about what was important in life. Everyone there was focused on basic survival and simple pleasures were drawn from everyday interactions with family. Don’t get me wrong, I really have no answers, but it was definitely a moment when you look at a human face in turmoil and they are still smiling their way through life willing to give you all they have. This is where the crying started. Sounds logical right…well it was, but now I can’t stop.
I cried when I hung out with the children, I cried when I thought of my family and heck, I even cried a little when I got home and had a 30 minute shower after weeks without anything aside from a bucket, thinking about how much water I used and how the village could have used it for days. So now, the floodgates are open and I have to figure out how the channel the energy for the good of humanity. Work seems to help, but only in 15 minute increments. Cocktale…do you think I’m having an early midlife crisis? Have you ever been in this scenario?
So I have a few theories:
1. I have officially fallen off the rocker
2. My pent up emotion from the last few years since my divorce is filtering out in tidal waves
3. This might be the new me with “feelings” and I might have to learn how to channel them moving forward to figure out what I want
So I’m hoping for option 2, but I guess we will find out shortly. I just don’t want to turn into that emotional mess of a girl every time I see a bird chirping or worse yet when I see the Dog Whisperer, which has been happening quite frequently as of late. I see him and I am emotional because I like him, I don’t see him and I’m emotional because I don’t see him. Seriously…when is this going to end. I think if he were to choose, he would pick option 1. Wait, there might be an option 4 – my body is demanding I turn into an emotional mess to drive him away from my inconsistency. Option 5 – could I be pregnant…heck no, I double checked that one already.
As for any other forms of male distraction that might get me back to my old self, I am afraid to report there have not been any as of late. Well that is not entirely true…I will have to tell you about my new dance partner and his dance moves – important to note that this interaction did not make me cry. I signed up for a new Buchata class and it was more an experience in awkwardness where the hip movements may have gotten me a bit more than I bargained for…being felt up for the sake of the art is ok right? My dance partner did ask me where he should be placing his hand…I did advise that him holding my ass is not an acceptable form of leading, even during the Buchata which does have its origins in the Dominican Republic’s sex industry. Check it out on youtube…HOT!
Anyway, I digress. I wish you luck with Cartwheels…please give me an update when you have one. Until then, I will just report my emotional forecast…perhaps I can use it to channel the weather or something.
Love ya!
C.
