Under the Moment
It’s times like these when even the most beautiful and fulfilling life feels false and somehow empty. Just waiting for the other shoe to drop, focusing on things that need no introspection, no further thought. When overanalyzing is the norm and your quality of life falters as a result…
That is where you’ll find me.
Bring a woman is exceedingly hard. Our bodies are not our own, and can easily be overtaken by an influx of hormones and turn us into something we don’t understand. Someone foreign, existing just under the surface, waiting to reveal themselves to an unsuspecting host.
Once a month my mind and body betray me. Taking liberties with my emotions, exacerbating my depression, and inflaming my already Chernobyl-level anxiety. I do my best to combat it with all of the tools at my disposal. Tools I’ve gathered from life lessons, therapy, books, meditation and the like. It’s a big boss battle against yourself and I’m exhausted.
My life is so good. I have an incredible parter, a good job where I’m respected, a home I own, animals who adore me, wonderful supportive friends, and a son who still wants to hang out with his (clearly very cool) mom, even at his advanced age. My little part of the world is safe and insular…except (at times) from little ol’ me.
I am my own worst enemy.
How does one go from bliss to busted? From comfortable to insecure? From glass half full to glass half full of dog shit? The difference in my mind and in my heart is uncanny and seemingly inescapable. Until 7 to 10 days have passed and the feeling finally dissipates and I am once again safe. When my full moon has passed and I’m joyously werewolf no longer.
So here I sit, nervous, tired, upset, worried, and in a general state of disarray. Grasping at the last of my coping mechanisms, praying for peace to take me once more. Let me sleep and dream of nothing in the world that has allowed me to thrive when others merely exist. For now I will bide my time, ardently waiting for the promise of a new tomorrow.