Isn't she lovely?

I have a broken heart. It's so so very broken. I think about my broken heart when I wake up in the middle of the night. I think about it when I wake up in the morning. I work hard all freakin' day long to keep from falling apart. I have a broken heart.

"People are better than no people." When I'm sad, I need to be alone a lot. I need to sit in a quiet room and not think, maybe cry, but mostly stare at the ceiling and be sad. At some point in the sadness, I begin to wonder if it will ever end, and if I'm isolating myself to the point of depression. Then I hang out with my people, and I feel a lot better, and I realize that things will not be awful forever.

Right now, I am trying to live my life as normal. I go to work. I go to yoga. I try to feed myself on a regular basis. I cry and get mad at dumb things and then say "I'm sorry". I have good moments. I have bad moments. I try not to cry at the pharmacy when they mess up my prescription for the hundredth time (even though I try to keep this from happening, and plan ahead, and check and double check, it stills happens - I have no control). I try to keep my life as stable as possible. I take a lot of walks at dusk. There have been times in my life when the walks at dusk were accompanied by swinging on swings at the park, but I don't have any swings near me now.

I don't know what is going to happen in my life, or with my heart. I'm learning to be a person who tries not to control everything. Not trying to control everything is probably why my heart is really truly broken. I'm proud of myself for letting that happen, for letting my heart be broken. That's progress.

I fix things.

Vintage GE Mist-Condition Hairsetter

So in the past year or so, I have fixed the following: my toaster oven, a blender, an aquarium, and a very fancy coffee maker. I believe that in some way, I broke all of them. And when they broke, every single time, I had an absolute freak out. Then I decided to fix them, because what the hell else could I do?

Fixing appliances is a lot less scary than some people think (or maybe a lot of people are like me and enjoy fixing things - I dunno). I'm a clumsy mess sometimes, so am left with the reality that this clumsiness will continually end in some kind of mess.

But in the end, nothing is unfixable. Injuries heal, appliances can be repaired, relationships can be rekindled, and diseases, well, those raw foodies have something to say about that. Perhaps if we admitted to ourselves that things will break, we'd be more open to doing the dirty job of fixing them, sewing up those socks, filling in those holes in the wall, going to see a therapist. Maybe if we acknowledged that we ourselves are all broken, we'd be more okay with the brokenness of other people, and the inevitable brokenness of the world.