43 days have passed since I left France.
...Saying that makes me feel like some poor addict who counts and takes each day at a time. No. I sound more like someone who pathetically logs about his travels while he wanders lost in some foreign land.
Day 43: I cannot take it anymore. My body craves the wonderful fromages of Caprice des dieux and Le Régal de Bourgogne. My lips tremble when I barely remember the creamy heaven that once graced across my tongue. I have no choice: I must make due with some Boursin that I scavenged at Costco.
I admit that, for these past few days, my emotions have shifted from "On top of the World" ...
...to "Crushed under a Boulder."
Life happens. Things occur. My feelings change.
I keep missing certain people. I feel betrayed by others. I drink my coffee. I walk in the sunshine. I missed a call on my cellphone. I chat with my friends. I go to the beach. I hear the birds sing outside. My ex wants to replace me with someone else. I'm angry at him. But I also want to comfort him when the girl he liked turned him down...
Ugh. My mood changes several times a day. Up and down. Up and down. My heart winds in a never-ending Yo-Yo effect.
When I feel depressed, I feel trapped within my own body.
I also have the power to emancipate myself.
Another day begins. I wash my hair. I put mousse in it. I put on my make-up. I spray on my Kenzo Amour perfume on my clothes.
I feel better already. I am grateful for the life I have. I am happy to be alive.
And so my day begins...
Barb the French Bean
I know exactly what you mean.
ReplyDeleteOh goodness, I go through this cycle more than I would like to admit.
ReplyDelete