arihanta patni

DELHI

// // // This is for all the NORMAL girls

The world is a tragedy to those who feel, but a comedy to those who think. -Horace Walpole

Monday, May 21, 2012

going home,going home...

It's been a hard week. I think these lyrics from The National say it best:

Standing at the punch table swallowing punch
can't pay attention to the sound of anyone
a little more stupid, a little more scared
every minute more unprepared

I made a mistake in my life today
everything I love gets lost in drawers
I want to start over, I want to be winning
way out of sync from the beginning

(it's a really good "woe is me" song but be careful not to listen to it on repeat too many times...it is a gateway drug to nick drake songs that only make you want to do harder stuff)

I won't go into particulars, but suffice it say that this brave new world I inhabit is full of pitfalls and landmines. Oh wait! That's true of every world we inhabit :( (curse you, Plan of Salvation). The strangest part of having a hard week and feeling out of place in my own skin is that as I get older, the more homesick I get for my Mom and Dad. Before I hit my thirties, I don't remember feeling this strange wistful ache to lay on my parents' living room floor while my dad yells at the baseball game/political pundit/ mundane sitcom starring ray romano and my mom makes cheesy biscuits like the ones at red lobster. But now, it's all I want when my heart longs to be understood, my house is too messy to lay on my own floor and I can't even entertain the thought of cheesy biscuits without feeling the massive guilt of years of weight watchers points counting. I want my mommy. I want my first family. I want to not have to try so damn hard to have love, to be loved and to love right.

(Because it will matter to my sweet good husband, I quickly insert this disclaimer that my terrible no good rotten week has nothing to do with him...he is life sustaining and supportive even when it is clear I am crying from a hormonal imbalance and too many diet cokes.)

Is this called running away? I mean, this longing for a simple place where relationships are still complex but somehow lack pretense. If I did decide to just fly home to spend a weekend with my parents and pretend I'm just their daughter and nothing else, is that taking the easy way out? I read in the Conscious Bride that this is very normal during

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