Back to the Grind (GCCS Round 2, Day 1)

So my epic week of epicness is over.  It's back to early morning wake up calls, long drives, and cookies for breakfast.  I may need an intervention on the last one.

You know what's sick?  I really missed it.   Well not so much the waking up and being out of bed by 4am, but the rest of it.  Part of it is that I've-done-something post class glow.  (And it gives my schedule more structure, which is something I've spent my adult life avoiding but is strangely liberating.)  Which is kind of b.s. because I did a ton of stuff on my week off.  I went hiking three times, stand up paddle boarding once, to tea twice, to the Rodarte exhibit at the MOCA.  And that's just the stuff I left my house to do.  My living room got re-imagined, my bedroom is sort of clean, I started a wild yeast starter (and a second dorky blog about it: dough-verload.blogspot.com), and - of course - there was baking.  I actually start to get twitchy if I go more than a few days without sticking something in an oven.

Maybe it's being able to hide behind doing something that is socially acceptable.  It turns out that other people have a hard time sharing in my happiness and that my facebook updates regarding my epic week of epicness were somewhat off putting to some of my "friends".  Oh, nobody said anything to me personally.  Why would they?  We don't live in an honest society, but one bound by social niceties.  Which in this case is fine.  What would someone say anyway - I'm a petty, jealous asshat who can't stand that you're not a miserable cesspool of self-loathing like me?  I get it on some level; I am certainly personally acquainted with the green eyed monster myself.  But even in the depths of my depression, I could appreciate and genuinely be happy for something wonderful, or even something good, happening to someone I love.  And I have a big, stupid heart.  Despite my prickly exterior, I really and truly love a lot of people.

It bothered me more than I'd like to admit, to hear that someone I consider a friend would begrudge me any modicum of happiness I've found.  A year ago - and I say this without any hyperbole or melodrama - I couldn't see the point of anything.  I was beginning to question why I should keep taking up space at all.  And then I decided to go for broke and found something I am passionate about, something fulfilling, something that does indeed make me happy.  It's not like I have the lion's share of happiness in the world, people.  Me being happy does not take happiness away from you.  And I am certainly not without fear or worry.  Yeah, my rent is paid this month, but acquiring 30k worth of debt and being marginally employed does not make for the rosiest of financial outlooks.

But after a full 24 hours of mulling this over, I have come to this conclusion:  I'm saddened by it, but I accept it and this ultimately has no impact on my life at all, so I'm kicking it out of my brain.  My ego was slighted but my will is not.  And I'll still have love and affection for the asshats (having been one myself for so long).  As the Buddha says,

Holding onto anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned.


I suppose adding so suck on that haters would completely defy the point of any of this.  Damn, this compassion thing is hard.