Oil In Water

Today I am sliding back and forth between grief and excitement like a blob of colored oil in a container full of water. Grief at the closing of one door, and at the leaving behind of familiar (even if uncomfortable) things, and excitement at the opening of a new door, one I didn't know was even there until just recently. Grief at the loss of the known and settled; excitement at the risk of trying out new possibilities, new ways of being.

And just like the oil in the water, this emotional seesawing is not a neat, defined process; as the bulk of my feelings swing one way, bits of emotion break off and take awhile to rejoin the rest, so that I'm either feeling a lot of excitement with little bubbles of grief mixed in here and there, or a lot of grief sprinkled with blurps of excitement. It's weird, and not particularly comfortable, but I know that in the end it's normal, and it'll calm down eventually.

Cryptic? Why yes. But I hope to be a bunch less cryptic here soon. Stay tuned.