I have the swirlies. I’ve just experienced an interlude. Wasn’t planned. Wasn’t expected. Was fun. Very fun. Not exotic. Not spectacular. But unusual, unexpected, and very, very unique. It was signature. It was classic. It is the stuff good romance stories are made of whether they end in happily ever after or not…and not all of them do. But now, it is post-interlude and I have the swirlies.
The swirlies. It’s that state of mind, hmmm, maybe that state of emotion too, where everything’s in motion. My thoughts, my feelings, my reactions, my motivation, my thoughts, my feelings, my reactions, my motivation…all of it is just swirling around like leaves in a breeze. The wind’s not blowing hard enough to just clear the yard of all the leaf matter. Leaves are in motion, spinning, floating, dangling, coming to rest momentarily, then getting picked up again by the next breeze that floats through.
This is my state of mind this morning.
I’m filled with thoughts.
I’m fill with emotions.
I can’t sort any of it out. I’m not really even sure I want to.
I can’t keep any of it still for more than a moment or two and it all comes bubbling right up to the surface again.
I have to go back to work tomorrow. Correction. I have to go back to work today. Because there is laundry to be done, a house to be cleaned, bills to be paid, and children’s needs to meet.
But I am filled with emotions and thoughts and my own needs. I have my own questions. I wonder. I doubt. I fear. I hope. And, none of it will settle. I want. I do know this. I know what I want and that is not swirling. Everything else is swirling around that.
I have my own wishes…and my own regrets. I wish I could have….I wish I’d said…I wish I’d asked…I wish. I regret that I didn’t…I regret that I did…I regret…
And I wonder. I wonder what. I wonder if. I wonder why. Will there be the opportunity for a re-do? What if there isn’t. Why? Why not? What? What if?
I also fear. I fear the if…the when and the why. Maybe, especially the why or worse…the why not.
Thoughts dash in and then out and back in. They are swirling, roaming, floating, dashing, fleeing, swirling. I have the swirlies inside.
It is evident that today I will not get any answers. I don’t even know if there are any answers to be had. For that matter, I can’t even pin down the questions. So without questions, answers make no sense anyway.
I will not get any nearer knowing or resolving or settling anything today, I don’t think. The leaves in my mind just refuse to be raked and bagged. I am certain that it is going to be a waste of time to even try to address the tumbling mess of emotional and cognitive matter moving messily about my wild mind.
So, I am going to give up and go do something else.
Like laundry. And making breakfast. Or preparing for work tomorrow.
Or any matter of other really normal, routine, business-as-usual things that I would be doing anyway….if the last three days hadn’t happened. And that’s the problem with interludes.
The really good ones can’t be planned. They come as a completely unexpected surprise.
And, when they are over….
When they are over…the return to reality can be almost painful.
Because a really good interlude, especially one that isn’t planned or scheduled, can put one in touch with what really matters. And sometimes, it’s just hard to get back to the laundry after that.
One thought on “Swirlies And The Problem With Interludes”
What a beautiful description – I could actually see the leaves twirling, rising up in one of those localized tornadoes, then settling again, only to be tumbled around some more.
I deal with with that feeling by taking a long drive, iPod on a favorites song list, and lose myself in the long ribbon of concrete laid out before me, disappearing into the horizon ahead. I spent my birthday this year in this way, where an 80 song list seemed to fly by as did the hundreds of miles separating me by distance from, but not touch with those giggly rembrances from an unexpected, unchoreographed interlude that just seemed to start and finish better than could have any well-laid plan.
You wonder as you dance through that interlude if others around sense it is going on, or whether they are oblivious. Surely the energy must be contagious, or the aura visible, don’t you think?