I feel so restless lately.  Something is missing in my life.  I need to do something new.  I think what I need to do is to create something (as opposed to just trying  something new) or to take on a new hobby, but I can’t find any clearer a path than that and a bunch of vague ideas of what it’s not.  I’m pretty sure it’s not going to involve singing–this is the time of year that my voice starts getting tired/dried out/problematic–although it could be something with music (it would just be piano I guess? God I would love to get an F/heart chakra gong, but I can’t spend that kind of money after my latest stints on Etsy and ebay).  It doesn’t feel like I’m looking to push physical limits. I mean, I’d go rock climbing again, although I’m not sure my upper body strength has improved considerably in the last 5 months.  I don’t think that’s going to scratch the itch though.  Reading something isn’t going to do it–it has to be active, and besides, that’s not exactly new.  I don’t want to read about other people doing things.  I almost feel like I want to travel, but I don’t see how that’s supposed to work.

Right now I just keep brainstorming and searching for something that resonates with this feeling.

I got it to calm down a little bit yesterday from the gym.  I went to bed around 2:00 Saturday night, and I couldn’t sleep past 6:00 the next morning.  So, I just got up and went about my day–including a decent workout.  I felt a little calmer (for lack of the right word) afterwards.  It always feels liberating to tell exhaustion to fuck off.

It’s back today, though, so I know I need to honor it. It doesn’t necessarily have to be something that anyone else would find interesting or exciting–it would just have to feel at least temporarily fulfilling to me. There’s an empty space, and I need to do something with it.  The closest I came to feeling that I was onto something was when I thought of taking up painting again.  I was never good…whatever brain/hand connections all visual artists cultivate died off decades ago, but it was one of the biggest helps for me in terms of making the transition between being inpatient and outpatient when I had an eating disorder.

I keep dismissing all of my ideas, and I’m not sure if it’s because they’re actually impractical, or if it’s just a symptom of my intense and overwhelming inhibition.

I don’t think anyone who knows me at all would believe it, but I am a supremely inhibited human being.  When someone compliments me, I look down at the ground and think of the compliment I wanted to give them if I wasn’t flustered at being compliment.  This happened this weekend; my date complimented my hair, and I had already been thinking that he looked hot with his new haircut, but I was too shy to say anything even though it probably made me look like an asshole to not even return the compliment out of politeness. I find dating stressful and overwhelming; I lasted about 2 weeks on OkCupid.  It takes me at least three dates to get past the point of having to talk myself out of canceling at the last minute.  I overshare, but I also spend a lot of time silently playing with my rings. I’m too shy to exchange information with my daughter’s friends’ moms in order to facilitate a play date (I actually find that even more nerve-wracking than dating). I don’t dance, although music affects me physically.  I proclaimed myself incapable of writing a melody years ago, so I just hide behind the piano and accompany.   I cut off ideas before they’re fully formed.  I want to try all of these new things, and I live near one of the greatest cities in this country, but i haven’t been to it since my child was an infant (and that was to get her tongue clipped, not for something fun).  I daydream about visiting different countries and zoom in on them on Google Earth, but I haven’t actually done all that much traveling.  I write smart comments on whisper, and I’m on twitter all the time, but I don’t even blog all that much; why do I stop the posts I’m forming in my head because they’re too boring or self indulgent?  I’m not even writing for an audience.

I wonder if this has to do with my age.  I wasted my twenties–a time in which I should have been kicking ass, finding myself, having fun, and being happy–on an eating disorder.  I wasn’t actually alive for much of it.  And now I’m in my late-30s.  I don’t have a problem with my age, but I certainly don’t want to waste a time that I’ll probably eventually view as (part of) my youth.  I’m not 20 years old anymore, and I’m not trying to recapture my wasted youth.  I think I’ve done a decent job of making peace with it, actually.  I’m not that old (lol), I’m in decent shape, I don’t have any major confines in terms of money or being married, and I just don’t want to waste this time.  It doesn’t have to be something that other people would admire–it just has to be something that’ll prevent me from looking back on my late-30s the way I look back at my late-20s.  My world was so small–I don’t want to do that.  It doesn’t have to be out there–it just has to make me happy and stretch me in different directions.

I wish someone could help me.  I don’t think this is something that anyone can help me with unless he or she is going through the same thing and wants to search together.  I do have one friend that I think may be open to it, but I’m not sure I want to figure this out with him.  I don’t want to just ignore this feeling because it’s uncomfortable, though.  I think it could be important.

I guess it could be something as simple as wanting to hang out in the city rather than being your typical asshole Long Islander who thinks they live at the center of the universe because they’re a train ride away from the city, but never actually goes in.  I do.  I don’t think going drinking in the city or going back to MOMA once is necessarily going to lead to something opening up in my life, but at least if I do it I’ll have gotten out of my bubble once or twice or every Saturday.



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