third story(ies)

I finally kicked the poison oak (and the steroid habit), and thought I might settle back into a regular sleeping pattern again. The bags under my eyes are pretty rough looking, although I might be mitigating a bit of it by drinking my weight in water each day. I still don’t have much of an appetite, but I can trick myself into eating with good food, so that’s been my game plan of late.

I feel reluctant to be both vague and borderline melodramatic here, but it is Saturday, and I’ve pledged to sit down at some point every Saturday here and write about what’s on my mind, so that’s where I am.

I suppose the best way to be vague is to just go for it. An opportunity presented itself rather out of the blue on Sunday, we worked at a near frantic pace for three days to research, reach out, organize, and implement some sort of plan of action; only to find out that in the eleventh hour the rules had changed a bit, the time pressure was more intense, the opportunity for further reflection and negotiation was lost. And so we missed out on something that was never really guaranteed, but at least looked like a viable option for many of the hours leading up to the final call. I know, that’s about as vague as it gets.

So now I am sad. Not a spiraling sadness; not something that I can’t see a way out of. Just a gentle, nudging sadness, one that feels like it’s dulling my senses a bit, and pulling my shoulders down into a stoop.

Today has been the toughest. Likely because it’s the first day I’ve had the time to reflect on everything without the distractions of work days and evenings. It hit me like a punch in the gut as I was walking in the garden – somewhere in the middle of all of these blooming beauties. It hasn’t gone away yet – it almost feels like it’s growing. It leaves me feeling confused.

Maybe it’s not really sadness. Maybe it’s more like regret. I really don’t want it to be regret. I work hard to be decisive, to not linger over hard decisions, or second guess outcomes. Those are pet peeves of mine that I work hard to avoid in my life. It’s not working here.

I have big regrets, really big ones. I should have been able to make this work. Even in a short time. Even with stringent limitations. Even when it seemed like too much of a risk. And I’m realizing that I really, really despise the feeling of regret. It feels like too close a sibling to guilt – something I’ve been trying to ban completely from my life.

I feel like I’ve worked really hard to get to a point where I’m confident in my abilities to do hard things, important things, quick things, necessary things, occasionally spectacular things of epic proportions. I fail often, but my turnaround time is the quickest it’s ever been. I should have been able to make this work. I should have been able to craft a detailed plan, a creative strategy, a persuasive stance, a winner. And I didn’t. I couldn’t. Sometimes I can pull time out of thin air. Sometimes I pull out big ideas, crazy ideas. Sometimes they work. And this time, when I really wanted it to work, it didn’t.

This feeling is uncomfortable to sit with. I hope it fades soon, and doesn’t just settle in for the long run. There is so much to be grateful about and excited for. I just really, really wanted it to be this.