Ventilating

Today I realized the reality and lack of change in my life. I can change something that is constant about me and I know that nothing is more constant than change.

This was something that was embossed into my memory when I was in high school and would dream of being a writer. The editor of Surfer Girl, a magazine I avidly read, wrote an editor’s letter about change and how it was the only constant in life, the only element we could count on despite how much we avoided it.

Why should I not take this to heart when it comes to matters that live inside of me? I believe I’ve only thought of change as an outside phenomena; only affecting what and who I see, where I go and how I get there. The days can change, and my outward feelings can change but fractions of my personality, my stubborn idiosyncrasies are staples of my life I took at face value; nothing could be done to alter them. All those other things can change--but me? How could I change?

Well, I can, I should and I will. I hate to say it but I've just been too lazy, too anxious and too spontaneously-driven to find a way. It's easier to live without reasoning, to act like a child with my feelings and emotions and pretend as though that is just the way I am and there’s no way of dealing with it.

There’s always been this urgency inside of me that is never settled by anything I’ve ever accomplished--whether in relationships or in career dealings. Anticipation of what's next fuels my fire; it gives me an enduring hope.

Yet this urgency most likely stems from a fear of death that I truly try to mask by saying how much I think about it and how OK I really am with it.

Who the hell is okay with dying? Ceasing to exist is my largest fear because it encompasses all that is unknown to me. I try to play a psychological game with this fact of life by stating how much I’ve reconciled with the idea of it. So-HA-can’t get me!

When in fact what this does is lead me to unknowingly hurry along anything in my life that could happen. Hurry along new relationships, hurry along a day so that I can get to where I’m going next, hurry along, hurry along, hurry the fuuuuhg-along. I live in the anticipation of life more than the presentness of it.

In turn I end up having an outlook on life that I thought was respectable Seize the day! Never take a moment for granted! Say what you have to say before the moment is gone!

I’m on this scale and I’m so far on one side that it’s going to take some serious climbing to get to the middle and seek the balance I need. I’m looking up and I don’t know exactly where that midpoint is but the other end sure is out of my line of vision.

My lack of patience--there, I said it--is disguised so well that it fools me every time. My impatience tricks me into believing that I’m only being passionate--people just can’t handle how much passion you have, Diana! You belong in Italy, they’ll understand you there. They are the Adams and Eves of passion!

Yeah, you’re too passionate. So if he can’t understand that after 3 weeks, you’re pulling plugs and giving directions to the emergency exits because you don’t think he’s as passionate about you as you are about him--well he can just go and do you know what.

But wait--how could he not be enthralled with your doting treatment? Wasn’t the last woman flaky, unresponsive, and unavailable?
Why is it too much to hope for in thinking that he’d want to spend more time with me after almost a week has gone by? What is this dating crap, anyway?

True, I’ve never had a boyfriend. I don’t know if I’ve ever really even dated a guy for longer than a week before I believe it was simply the beginning of the end. Hey, if I sense something is wrong--most likely it is the end of the road. Might as well exit the highway before the traffic gets too backed up.

Rerouted.

I feel as though I’m attracting wonderful people and then, nervously sensing their displeasure, elbow them and run to the next guy in a crowd as if it’s some sort of game you played in elementary school. A version of TV tag? I think so. I’m completely content with the person until I’m feeling neglected in some fashion. I’m fine when I’m alone because I’m the only person I am dealing with-I’m getting all of the attention. But if I’m not called upon, text messaged, e-mailed or esp’d, there’s no way this beau’s into me anymore.

I try to believe that what I’m doing is fine. That I’m really helping everyone in the situation by not letting this thing take a breather--just don’t let it breath so it can’t get hurt again. Seems more humane, I suppose.

In hindsight, it’s ridiculous--completely ridiculous. I have unachievable expectations for these men and their (possibly) developing feelings.

I’m not that wonderful that they should think they love me within the first 18 minutes of conversation. I’ve no true talents to speak of--nothing entirely captivating to say.

The fact of the matter is that I need to change.

I need to create a balance in my life and that means I need to be more patient. My restless heart won’t be fulfilled until I honestly realize--and put into motion--the idea that although life is fleeting, as it stands, I am still alive and shall remain so until whatever occurrence takes place.

I know that God is the greatest unknown, yet I trust so fervidly in His existence. I have no unsettled thoughts nor do I try to find the answers right now. Although my mind and heart take horribly off-course detours, they know the right road, they know the way back home. No askew arrow can misguide their Creator’s call. I trust that God will lead my life to be more patient if I am up to it.

All I can wonder is if I was made to be impetuous. If in fact, my impetuousness has ever brought anyone to change their lives; to be more free in the understandings of their feelings and relations with people. To speak with an unabashed love for the promise of a companion's heart that will understand the language of its own as well as the Creator does.

The solace I find in the unknown still boggles my mind. Nature is a wonderment in and of itself. I can simply feel at ease--can simply have the patience-- in knowing that I will never know the reasons for its grandeur other then the simplicity of a creative being for which all humans intrinsically emulate.

But with Earthly dealings, with relationships among each other--the unknown, the ambiguous and the unclear don’t necessarily have to apply; for we’ve been entrusted with this great form of communication for a reason. Words become the magic we need and in which we can create a storm of life-giving freedom to each other. We can be explicit and concise with every letter’s hook and curve. We can denote every moment of our soul’s timeline within stacks of sentences.

With these letters that make these words, we can be creative, we can express and most of all we can show and define love. Nothing has to be held back. The only patience I have is for God and his unknown.

Have I missed my point?