:jRevolting as a verb, not as an adjective though I would imagine there have been times in my life when that word would have been as apt description. I also think there are have been times in my life when I teetered perilously close to the edge if insanity.
It’s been years since Napoleon XIV threatened they were coming to take me away, ha-ha, to the funny farm where life is beautiful all the time And I would’ve been happy be happy to see those nice young men in their clean white coats And they were coming to take me away ha-aaa!!!!!
I’m revolting against my own bad, non-productive behaviors. I’m a disgusting romantic and it’s my weakness. As I mentioned earlier, I really do think Love at times, has actually made me crazy. So, in battling that, I’ve decided that maturity is the best treatment for this mental condition. And I must be more rational about love….even the ancient ones, had this kind of love been paper, it would be yellow, creased and brittled by age.
There comes a time, at least for me, when being depressed, sad and chocked full of gloom no longer serves a purpose. I’m no fan of Dr, Phil’s, but years ago when I believed he was more skilled as opposed to being a mere TV shill, he said one thing that continues to make sense to me today. It was something to the effect, that if we continue do untowards things or remain in bad situations , we must be continuing to do it or staying because we’re getting something out of it. For me, in the beginning, I liked the sympathy. Then, timed passed and I didn’t do anything about my situation.. I cried the same old, tears, sobbed over the same old issues and moaned and wailed and waaaaaaah’d and waaaaaah’d ad infinitum.
And people stopped calling me. Shock!!!! I’d expended the sympathy allowance each human is allotted for sad sacks. That was a lonely place to be.
So, I was left to my own devices, I had two choices: I could either fix what ailed me or cut off that parasitic need to be pitied. I think I did a little of both.
I still get sad from time to time and for the damndest reasons. Sirius will play a few songs and these melodic time machines can whisk me back to a period that in retrospect seemed so much easier….when I was a mere ingenue and blissfully in love without a mortgage, severe arthritis or a weakened bladder that has become a bigger bully than Adam Schiff.
I listen to the song, sing with it, hum to it, and I remember the Laurie from that era; the very special year of 19-whenever, and wipe away a tear and the memories, both good and and with a finger that I can only hope is clean.
Donc là.
Nostalgia, the feeling of a little wistfulness of what once was, is good for the soul. Not full on regret, mind you, just a quick little stomach flip flop kind of thing that reminds us we’re still alive. Been a while since you felt smitten by having felt smitten by something? I know—it can make you tear up all over again.
When that happens to me, I sigh, smile, then wipe away the tear, like I always do, then head for the nearest emergency clinic just as the tale-tell itch of conjunctivitis rears it’s ugly, pink little head.
I really need to wash my hands more often.
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