Christmas in New York

According to the little clock in the bottom right of my computer screen, it is 1:53am. I have been laying in bed for the past four hours trying to find some way to get to sleep. Clearly, nothing has worked thus far, so I may as well write.

I'm definitely angry these days. Not angry in a bitter nasty way, but in an "I'll show you!" kind of way. I met with my therapist today and explained my meadow metaphor and the fact that I feel like darting off toward the mountains or the ocean (anyplace but straight ahead). This, along with my obvious spunk sparked an interesting conversation.

In an oversimplified manner, here's what I realized:

1) Dalton was the pragmatic realist. I am the idealistic dreamer. Without Dalton, I am not especially grounded and tend to get caught up in the "Why nots?" of life. Why not visit a different city every month? Why not go to New York for Christmas? Why not flirt with the cute guy at the bar? Why not buy the best available seats for Sunday's Dodger game and take Iain to his first game of the year? Why not bet $300 on one hand of blackjack? Why not train for a triathlon? Why not take a leave of absence and wander around Europe for a couple of months? Etc, etc.

2) I like this part of myself. It is the risky, adventurous, fun, spontaneous side of me. Dalton like it too.

3) It is the start and a part but not the end or the whole of who I will be when I come out of this.

Dr. D. contends that as long as I hold some of the tension between reality and fantasy that I will be ok. Howver, she is strongly cautioning me from running into pure escapism simply to avoid the pain. Yeah, yeah, I know she is right, but it is so much more fun than being miserable all the time.

Thankfully, I have Iain, who grounds me in the same way his father did. I can't/won't spend all my money, bail on my job, risk my health (wine is good for you, right), or abandon him to world travels. However, everything else is fair game. And besides, I think he is going to like New York at Christmastime.