I’ve been avoiding my blog.
Actually I’ve been avoiding a lot of things lately. I suppose it’s because I feel like every time I open my mouth (or my blog) a whole slew of black negativity spews forth and I end up choking on it.
It’s not pretty.
But today in the shower, where all my best ideas are birthed, I realized that my life (right now) is like a pair of uncomfortable pants. Hang in there and I promise this will all make sense in the end.
Picture yourself in the most uncomfortable pair of jeans you’ve ever worn. I say jeans because usually they don’t have a lot of give and for this analogy to really work I need you to think tight, unstretchy thoughts. Yes, unstretchy isn’t a word but whatever.
So here I am in my tight jeans. It’s been five months and it’s difficult to breathe. I really never feel comfortable. I can’t relax and they are so restrictive that they’re preventing me from doing the things I love. It’s just easier to not move. Sad, but depressingly true.
Sometimes I can unbutton the fly and take a few deeper breaths, but mostly I’m gasping for air. I shift and squirm to get comfortable, but there’s no movement. There’s no give in these damn jeans and I feel like if I wear them much longer my head will literally pop off my shoulders followed by a steady stream of boiling hot steam.
Sure, I’m grateful for the jeans. They cover me up and keep me warm. They allow me to walk down the street without people pointing at my naked lower half. Which is a good thing. I suppose having tight jeans is better than no jeans, but damn are these things uncomfortable!
And that’s where I’m at right now. Uncomfortable, gasping for breath and wishing I had a nice pair of fitted jeans.