Architextualizing.

As you might be able to see, this blog will be under construction for a little while. I am unsure as to what theme or colors I want to incorporate, so the process will be an ongoing one. I realize I still need some work when it comes to demonstrating patience; so, what better way to accomplish that then by practicing slowing down. Baby steps though.

This whole week is an exercise in slowing down, I suppose. I am vacationing in Boston, my home city, after having been away for nearly 3 years. Given how much time has passed, and all that has transpired, I felt the need to start anew and leave this blog behind. However, I have a tendency to toss things by the wayside once they've lost their initial glamour, and I really don't want to indulge in such childish tendencies any longer. So, this blog will stay. Keeping the original title of "anxious musings" feels a bit sedentary, when, in fact, I've been anything but. I'm not sure what else to title it though... I suppose it'll come to me. I'm looking to officially transition out of this "limbo of anxiety", not continue to soak in it.

So far this week has been spent catching up on sleep, soaking up love and attention, and imbibing as much alcohol as I can. It is quite a surreal experience. Forgetting I was no longer in the Golden State, I gushed with excitement at the sight of a New Hampshire or Massachusetts license plate. I began counting all the Dunkin Donuts locations, and promptly gave up upon reaching the number 7 before we'd even left Somerville. Apparently, I also had more of a non-rhotic accent than I'd realized... More to come later.

I am not my stories. I am not my thoughts. I am not.

After the break-up, I regressed for a few months in the attempt to transform. It was some semblance of a breakdown although I was moving forward simultaneously. I wanted something exactly opposite of what the relationship had been. I drank, I smoked, I stayed up far later than was healthy, and then floated through days at work. This is the first time I dealt with depression in such a physically destructive way. When I was 15, I would spend days alone in my room, feeling sad, waiting for a rescuer. One day I woke up and simply decided I would never do that to myself again. This time happened a little differenty...

I don't regret any decision I have made in these last few months, including the break-up. It needed to happen. I also needed to shake off who I had been, shock myself out of my skin. I can feel electricity returning to my limbs. I don't want to surround myself with the people who bring out this destructive side of me.

I am happiest when I am working toward something. When I look at my students, it fills me with a light that I can't feel from anything else with the exception of horses. I see people in my life who have these stories. Stories of pain and anguish that they carry with them. They keep them close, like a treasure. They identify themselves through the pain they filter. I don't want that anymore. I want to see what is beautiful about my life. I want to bathe in it. I want to run with it and not look back.