ephemerons.com

Vows are spoken to be broken.
Feelings are intense. Words are trivial.
Pleasures remain. So does the pain.

The move to the new house is near completion.  Most of my life’s belongings are unpacked and placed at their arbitrarily decided new location, where they will remain until I decide to move again and pack them away for an indefinite amount of time.  I am really comfortable in my new room.  It feels like home to me, more so than I have felt since I moved away from Rialto 7 years ago.

The one thing that disturbs me most about my new residence is the fact that it is so quiet.  In the apartment I recently abandoned, I had neighbors above me whose favorite hobby was to keep my roommates and myself as awake and annoyed as possible.  They honed this skill to perfection.  The neighbors across from us had a cockatiel that would chirp incessantly. I was definitely looking forward to moving and enjoying a new found silence.

Silence can sometimes be intensely emotional and turbulent.  In a conversation between two people, a lot can be said by saying nothing at all.  This kind of silence I can enjoy.   The look in someones eyes, or the body language of an individual speaks louder than any word in any language.  Words are akin to the slight of hand and misdirection a magician uses to distract you from reality.  Words are meaningless and forgettable.  What would we say if we could only speak truths about how we really feel?

In our busy, everyday activities we become so used to the background noise of life.  We tune most of it out. We hardly pay attention to it.  But we need it.  When left with only inner dialogue I am frightened by the realities of my life.  Words are seductively deceptive; thought is abstract, honest and scary. It wasn’t always this way for me.  I used to be extremely satisfied while trapped in my own head, alone.  Something changed, and I need to figure out what.

Having a crush on someone feels exactly like it felt as a kid the night before a trip to Disneyland.  Excitement. Anticipation. Overload.

I can’t believe that after all of these years, I still get butterflies in my stomach when trying to talk to someone that I think I may “like”.  I mean, I communicate for a living.  It is what I do.  I have become quite skilled at translating abstract ideas into applicable lessons and stories in order to make a point.  I throw in a a couple cups of humor; 2tsp of sarcasm; and a dash of me not taking myself too seriously - and I am left with a recipe for successful communication. Despite this fact, if I am put in front of someone I am secretly admiring… it is complete chaos.

I think the problem could be the possibility that the area of the brain which normally provides my linguistic prowess, is also occupied by my desire for requited affection.  The two cannot occupy the same place at the same time.  Neurons will start crashing into each other.  Logic breaks down.  I begin to get nervous when the words do not get delivered by the same electrochemical silver platter in which I have become so accustomed.

The same thing happens the night before a trip to Disneyland.  We can only think of all of the daring roller coaster rides.  We remember how scary the Haunted House is.  We recall the Matterhorn being adventurous and dangerous.  We fall to sleep with a smile on our face because logic has faded behind a curtain of our own desire to be happy.

The next day we remember what a trip to Disneyland is really about.  2 hour drive to the park.  Long walk from the parking lot.  Hot California summer sun.  Excruciating long lines for rides that are not even as dangerous as we remembered.  The Haunted House is lame, and the Matterhorn is closed for repairs.  We stayed up all night excited for this? Please!

The lesson? I guess sometimes it is better just to be excited than it is to take the trip.

First, I want to thank everyone for your prayers and good thoughts during my surgery and recovery.  It was not an easy experience for me.  My time in the hospital following the surgery was especially rough.  My adorable mom came and took care of me during the week following being released from the hospital.  I could not have made it without her help.

Now that I have been home for a couple weeks now, I realize that the physical distress felt from this surgery is no where near the emotional distress I am feeling now.

This surgery is just the beginning.  Sure, I have lost 40 pounds in 2 weeks, which is great.  What I need to do now is change my life.  I don’t want to have my life changed by the weight I lose.  I want the weight I lose to be cause by my change in lifestyle.  A lot of people assume that this surgery is a magical cure to obesity.  It is not.  I am still doing the hard work.  The surgery just makes it so it is almost impossible to cheat.

I need to surround myself with people who can encourage me, and who are as dedicated to living healthy lives as I need to be.

I have just begun this difficult journey.  The best is yet to come.