I used to write some intense stuff back in the day. It was borderline crazy albeit well written. The verge of insanity seems to bring out the creative demon in us. Most creative people are arguably crazy or at least going through a crazy period in their life. I think my former rambles from moons gone by was the latter. I am not crazy- but I was living in a crazy situation. Not crazy good. Crazy bad. Deranged. Unhinged. Maniacal. Not through direct fault of my own- just through events and situations that transpired. Negativity however seemed to draw out my artistic spirit.
Suddenly, everything became normal. Normal. Normal. (adj.1. conforming to the standard or common type; usual; not abnormal; regular; natural 2.serving to establish a standard)
I realize this isn't completely normal. I live without a television, surrounded by all 1950s furniture. I never wear jeans anymore- only 50s style and vintage dresses. I hide signs of the modern world (aside from my laptop) away from myself and others. Obviously, this kind of regression to the past in my self created time machine is abnormal.
Yet everything else is... normal in an odd retro sense.
I play homemaker. My husband is a Corporal in the United States Marine Corps. We never argue. We rarely have conflict of any kind. I cook dinner and clean the house. He works on his old Chevrolet Camaro. We both read a lot. We don't socialize a great deal and don't feel the need to.
Plus, we've given up alcohol. For now. For the sake of health, ethics and sanity.
It sounds like Fairy Floss doesn't it? My married life isn't really though. I sometimes have to pinch myself as I wonder if my current existence is real. I have nothing to complain about. No issues. None. It's like living in our self-created Mayfield within the walls of our house.
All of the triggers that used to drive me to stupidity and to partially insane and reckless acts have disappeared from my life.
I used to hate life so much that I wanted to disappear from my own world. I was on a constant search for happiness and virtually did anything in a futile effort to find it.
Now I've found happiness. Jon and I are going on 3 years later this year. That's honestly my longest ever relationship.
But what now?
Part of me thinks I've lost my sparkle. The glitter that used to make me a fascinating, unique individual.
Do I want conflict in my life? No.
Do I want my sparkle back? Maybe. My life was far more interesting when everything was laced with a shimmer of insanity and desperation.
Normal is boring. Maybe this is the sacrifice I have to make for happiness.
I live in hope that normal won't be boring when Jon and I move back to the Midwest this year. There's too much to do in St. Louis to be bored.
For now though... you'll have to deal with my life being Fairy Floss. No laying on the beach at night hoping for things to end. No lapses of mental stability. No hate or anger for the world and individuals around me. No physical or emotional scars inflicted by others to make me hate myself.
I suppose it's all better now. It's been a long time coming.
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