Mixed Feelings

I have been realizing these past few weeks that I rarely feel just one way about anything and I’ll bet that nobody else does either. Only, with me, I drive myself crazy analyzing all my thoughts (which is why I’m on medication I’m sure) and it’s like unraveling tangles of cords in the back of an old computer room. There’s black ones and red ones and green ones and each need to be sorted and put into the correct port because if I leave them tangled, my life feels like a mess. So, with almost everything going on around me, I have bunches of thoughts that need to be sorted and it’s crazy for me as I go through these things and try to figure out what I REALLY feel only to find I don’t REALLY feel any ONE thing, but feel multiple things – some good, some bad.

A good example of that was a couple of weeks ago when I was writing about all the different emotions I was experiencing as I was helping my mother. How many tangled up feelings can you get when you help your mom to the bathroom. Now THAT is a real mess. There just ISN’T only one way to feel. And that’s how so many things are in life. My son just got his learner’s permit yesterday, so of course I’m feeling proud and I’m also anticipating some relief from certain things when he’ll be able to drive. But I’m also feeling a bit sad, seeing him grow older. Then again, I’m also a little scared because it’s scary when your kids get the power to drive a car; they could get hurt. And I’m feeling old, because he’s my baby… the last one! Some of what I’m feeling is nice, some of what I’m feeling is scared and miserable. I’m looking forward to driving with him. I can tell he’s taking this very seriously and I’m glad of that. My respect for him has increased as I watch him carefully shift the car and steer and think. It is quite clear that he is more than aware that this vehicle can be an instrument of death! He is taking his driver’s ed lessons very seriously. I’m actually surprised at how sincerely he is taking the responsibility of driving and I’m exceptionally pleased. It also touches my heart. There is not a trace of cockiness or cynicism in him with this. But this whole thing is another signal of my age and the fact that my life is coming to a close. Oh… I know, I know… I’m not exactly in my sunset years, but I’m sure close. I am certainly well into late afternoon. It is certain that there IS a sunset and that didn’t seem so realistic before. Old age seemed an unlikely prospect previously… something that would happen “some day,” but “some day” wasn’t every really going to happen, was it? Now I know that “some day” is a certainty as is dying. Life will go on without me.

Of course that also reminds me of exactly how unimportant I am. I sure FEEL important. After all, I don’t have any concept of life without me! I was always here as long as I’VE been here. But my family doesn’t think about me 24/7 every minute of the day. They never did. Life doesn’t revolve around me (even if, in my little mind, it does). What a comeuppance. It’s a relief in a lot of ways though, too. I’m much less scared of flying and worry lots less about my personal safety because I know my family doesn’t need me like they did when they were little children. They love me and certainly they would miss me if anything happened to me, but their world would not be torn asunder. I can relax now when I get on a plane. It will only be the end of me, not the end of the world, if we crash. (I am not speaking for the other passengers, however, there may be many worlds torn asunder from their viewpoint.) Anyway, I’m just sort of letting my thoughts go as they will with this. I really meant to write about those tangled, mixed-up feelings.

I went to Marshall Fields yesterday and tried on a couple dozen pieces of clothes. It was really fun because so much stuff looks good on me now. Of course I was trying on clearance stuff and I found some nice things for under $15.00. Ultimately I bought a skirt for $6.00. It was really cute and a great deal! Anyway, as I was trying all this stuff on, a couple of teenage girls came into the dressing room and were also trying things on. I was actually at a somewhat upscale mall but not in an outstandingly wealthy neighborhood. The girls were noisily and enthusiastically trying their finds on and encouraging each other. I never saw them, only listened to their chatter and it was fun to hear them giggling and discussing the pros and cons of each outfit. I love teenage girls. They always cheer me up. I love their silliness and their emotions. I love their passion and the way they feel everything so strongly. I love their interest in clothes and make up and boys. I love their vulnerability and their open-ness. I loved raising my two girls and I loved having teens. I loved listening to them in the car with their friends. I have never liked the breed of teen girl who was mean and small minded and cruel. I have never liked the type that sneered and made fun of other girls or enjoyed making snide remarks or unkind cuts against others. But I have a heart for those who are confused and open-hearted and want the right things. And so many of them are fun and funny so I find myself always enjoying the times I hear teenage girls chatting in the malls or at restaurants or anytime I overhear their conversations. I also get a kick out of some of the diaries here, just dipping into their lives. It is not an easy time of life.

Anyway, I was in the dressing room, listening to these girls and enjoying it as I tried on my clothes, but then one of the girls said, “Ashley, this blouse is $70.” Of course I made a face in the mirror when she said that. “Dang!” I thought, “I can’t believe these Marshall Field prices!” I had seen many items on the clearance racks that were at least that expensive, but I wouldn’t even bring one of those in the dressing room.

“It’s marked down,” she called out, “from $114.00.”

“Wow!”

And I thought they were going to be stunned at the ridiculously high prices and debate whether they were going to spend the money on something so outrageously and stupidly expensive, but then the first girl said, “My mother better LOVE me to death for all the money I’m saving her by buying this!” and I about fell out of the dressing room! My first thought, of course, was that if she were my kid I’d smack her! LOL But, I realized that not all kids have the same value of a dollar as my kids or as me. And, probably, some of you reading this think I’m crazy and that she is right… she’s getting a great deal on her $70 blouse – you get what you pay for, etc. But, for me, I think $70 for a shirt is not just extravagant, I think it’s almost sinful. Unless the shirt is some sort of shirt where you gasp and your eyes widen and you speak in some sort of whisper, not just shout how your mom should love you for the money you’re saving her. $70 is one of those amounts where you sweat and wonder and think and say, “Well… maybe….”

But, anyway, the whole point is… my first emotion was to sort of condemn this poor girl with a quick, “rich snob,” stereotyping. But then, because I am borderline insane and must analyze every thought and emotion in myself, I had to dig deeper. And the deeper areas showed me that I felt much more than that. Along with the first, initial reaction, I also felt that I had no place to judge because I knew I would be just like that if I had money available to me all the time. I also knew that the bitter stereotyping was certainly laced with a bottom-line envy. Wouldn’t I like to have enough money that I could casually pick up a $70 Marshall Fields shirt? And, on the better side, it also felt good to listen to young girls who were so light-hearted and free of the worries of this world that they actually could just giggle and congregate at Fields and buy a $70 shirt without realizing what a big deal that really is. On and on, there were lots of side thoughts and feelings and, of course, those thoughts and feelings mingled with my judgments of each of THOSE thoughts and feelings, “Now, Eryssa, it isn’t nice of you to stereotype those poor girls,” and “That’s better, Eryssa. It’s much better to try to put yourself in their shoes and understand their perspective,” to “Why the heck do you have to THINK so much about what you’re THINKING? Can you just SHUT UP and try on your clothes and just ENJOY the moment, the sound of the conversation and the humor in what you just heard? Does EVERYTHING have to be this big analysis session??????”

Now you can understand why psychotropic medicines are so important in my life 😉