October 31, 2012

The Fall of the Orchard

Another week in the unfolding saga that is my little life upheaval. I have had a pleasant stretch of consistent emotions and then today it all went a tad awry. I found it super hard to get out of bed and when I did I kept getting severe bursts of energy and had to spend them by acting like as if I were five years old again. Singing at the top of my lungs, crazy room reorganising and then spasmodic dancing in the kitchen while making cheese on toast. Bruce the greyhound and I went for a walk and by the time I got home, my mind and body were pretty exhausted but still sputtering bursts of energy like a choking exhaust pipe.
I sat around for a time feeling uneasy, restless and with an urge to do damaging, inappropriate things. Dangerous territory. You know, when things seem like SUCH a good idea but actually totally and completely aren't?

Well, that was enough. I was not about to get destructive on myself and so I pulled on my boots yet again, this time without Bruce, and marched off into the afternoon.
Down the lanes I walked, smirking at my shadow legs. Look how long they are! And I inhaled the cool air deeply, letting it sweep out those bad, itching feelings.
When I reached the hedgerow, I could hear strange noises coming from the orchard. I stepped through the bushes tentatively to find apple trees uprooted, there innards pointing to the skies as if to say that's where their souls had soared to.
I approached this little tree slowly and cast my eyes over its body, peering into its little heart that was still warm but unsure of how to beat.
I could see the farmer over the rows, slowly pulling up each tree methodically and with precision. Marching onwards and upwards, through the thick mud and sludge and the tracks of machinery I could feel my breath getting heavier and yet quicker, my limbs groaning under the stretch of my pounding feet.
I went into the forest and kicked up the leaves, with a little spite. Take that leaves!

There was no one in sight so I sang the song that had been in my head all day at the top of my voice. My heart was beating strongly, pumping new blood into my veins that dissolved the nervous, frantic feeling that had pervaded throughout the morning. Not that the feeling didn't fight. It rose up and surged against the current and for a moment I thought I might cry from panic but I slowly relaxed and my old self won.
It was when I saw the gate that lead back into the orchards and the sun twinkling through the trees that my small voice of reason piped up and presented me with fresh thought that would clear away all doubt.
My friends will tell you that the one thing I love to do is love. I like to make people feel special and will often go to lengths that seem great to some, but natural to me, to show it. Call me over the top or intense if you will but that's just the way I am and sometimes to the detriment of myself. Give me two slices of cake, one bigger than the other and I will invariably choose the smallest. If it's between me and you, you are likely to win. I suppose it comes from a lifetime of sharing everything with my twin brother. I like to do everything in twos.

I realised while I was walking today that this is why I feel so wretched at times. All the love I have to give builds up. When I can't find someone to spend it on, I get anxious and itch to stir my giant cauldron of emotion and spoon it out to even those who don't want it, or understand it.
By sundown I had come to the difficult conclusion that there was only one thing for it. As unnatural as it might feel, I suspected my only chance of survival was to do something I rarely do: turn the love in on myself. Why have I spent so many years neglecting myself for the benefit of others? How catastrophic a thought! Especially at a time now where it seems that backs have turned, almost as if for my benefit. I count my blessings for every person in my life right now, positive or negative. They each have a role to play in helping me to realise that if I'm going to love anyone at all, it should start from within. Right down in my roots.

Just as the farmer turns to his orchard and tears it all up, I'm going to pull myself up by the roots, look at them as close as I can and put them back down when I fully understand how they work and where they belong. I don't know why I haven't before.

Wish me luck!
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