Reconnecting

I abandoned my blog abruptly as turns in my life had sent me over a cliff. I haven't really written/journaled in a year and a half and it's manifested itself in my life as a daisy chain of failure.

I have this game I play with the universe, I've played it since I was a kid. It was a belief that I could control things out of my control. Such as, when riding in the schoolbus, I would not breathe in when there was a curb interrupted by a driveway. I avoided stepping on cracks from time to time, nothing to do with my mother's back, just a way of navigating tricky sidewalks, to see if I could do it. I also used to maniacally ensure that no blanket or limb ever hung over the side of my bed. I once got it in my head that at night, a giant table saw would swoop by, neatly trimming up clutter in right angles, and blindly hack off anything in its path.

I don't know what psychologists would say about that, but there certainly seems to be a deep-seated desire to control things out of my control. Or bargain with these unseen puppeteers, trying to play an imaginary game.

As an adult, these little games have fallen away and in its place, I believe that I can still influence the universe. It has been my experience that the worst things that happen are unforeseen. Therefore, I reasoned to myself, if I can think of all the bad scenarios and plan around them, it won't happen. I do this automatically. My mind hears something then extrapolates instantly for best and worst case scenarios. I can handle disappointment, it seems, if I knew it was a possibility, but it always seems to piss me off when I get blindsided, or surprised. Back to the control thing again. I should have been able to reasonably expect A, B, or C to happen, I should have had a plan in place.

What's funny about this whole topic is that, in the past year and a half since I've been typographically silent, I have found my career path. I am moving into Project Management with a bend on eventually specializing in Risk Management. It's something I've been doing as a child, and once I identified this career, I can't tell you how many question marks turned into exclamation points. All the floating uncertainties dropped to the soft earth like a relaxing athlete.

But writing - even if I'm doing something as simple as recounting a story or gushing over a recipe - seems to undo the OCD inside, takes the edge off, gives me that outlet and focus that my restless mind needs to stay balanced. Without my writing in the past year, a few areas of my life have become gummed up, and I need to untangle them. I believe when I am balanced, good things fall on me. I know it, actually. So here I am, ready to plug back in and love the muse, so she will love me back.