I only cried once, each of the last three days. I'm writing that because it's good news. It really is.
After work on Wednesday, I got to spend time with Kim and her daughter Alexis. It had been since July, and plenty has changed in both sets of lives. We shared a bottle of red (not the six year old), a run through the woods being silly, and popcorn and ice cream on the couch during a movie. I missed choir rehearsal, but I really needed my friend. I cried on the drive home.
I didn't work on Thursday (so thankful). I had time to make warm breakfast before physical therapy, an absolute luxury. PT is hard and leaves me hurting, but I am making progress in my neck. Not yet my arm :(
I walked 7-some miles around Calhoun and Harriet. I needed the sun, and the activity. I hurt too much to run, but I think it was better to enjoy the day. I took the opportunity to call my mom on her birthday. I went to acupuncture, which seems to help even more than the PT. I wound up with time to visit Jean, my best friend and mother to the only baby who doesn't make me cry. I cried driving home - actually I yelled in equal measure to the crying, loudly and at length. Finally, I got to end Thursday with my monthly massage - my friend Amy worked the tension out of my hips from all that walking and emotion-holding, and worked on my exhausted being for longer than our allotted 90 minutes. Since we are bartering voice lessons (for her daughter Mikayla) for my massages, I got to put my money back in savings this month, which really helps.
Yesterday, the day opened with a phone call from my choir director, whom to my joy has become equal part leader and friend. She had news for me which she knew would take a big stressor off my heart, and it was good, again, to talk with a friend who cares. I joined Zach for brunch at Keys, that old haunt of ours; Carol and Mary Jo remembered us from years ago, presenting us with a plate of "TOTS!" We both needed the positivity.
I was looking forward to the afternoon but the tears still came on the way home. Music has always been how I work through my garbage, and though the cynic in me cringes at the cheese factor of this song, it has become quite the trigger for me. It's the words. It's the mention of her wait, and her smile.
Followed shortly by this one. Feeling my tears as they dry, and holding on for dear life. Dear God do I love singing this song.
I ended the day with dinner and discount student facials with Kat at Aveda. I don't have the money for any of this, but I need to be touched and to feel cared for. I even let myself buy a new lipstick and have promised to myself to actually wear it for no reason this week.
OK, so I may have cried a second time last night on the way home. "Sometimes, there's just no way to hold back the river." (Stole that one from a book I'm reading.) Crying seems to be the story of my life. I very much feel, in most of my daily moments, that I'm going numb. Turning bitter and into someone I don't like very much. However, singing also seems to be the story of my life, my ultimate catharsis. Writing I started doing when I was 12, which would make it seem also to be a life theme, but singing began even four years before that. Almost 30 years, I've been singing. It's the only thing that can put me all-the-way-back in touch with my heart, even if that means I have to keep crying. I think I would be afraid to try and write a song that might touch someone like these songs (and so many others) touch me. Or maybe I'm just afraid of how deeply it might break me open.
Point of all this being, today, that I was so grateful for a few better days, and the people that shared them with me.