Roller Coasters

I really wish this post were about Castle 'n Coasters, a fun park here in Phoenix.  We went once when I was pregnant to play mini-golf.  I had seriously messed up depth perception because of all the fluid retention, but I still managed to beat the socks off Jeremelon.  I love putt-putt.  My grandparents used to take Chazberry and I when we were little, and because golfing was important to them, we learned how to putt properly.  We also learned how to take it seriously while still having fun (or at least I did!).

But this post isn't about amusement parks.  This post is about emotional roller coasters.  Really, I probably shouldn't call them roller coasters.  They're more like emotional log rides.  There have been few emotional highs to quantify the lows.  There's no up and down, no elation and depression.  Nope.  My life has lately been like a gentle winding up, a building of tension instead of joy.  The cart of my life spirals slowly up a freakish mountain of perils, and all the while I the stress grows and grows and grows because not only has a terrifying yeti jumped out of the darkness to try to maul me, but I know that once my energy and momentum and carefully meted control wears out, the only way off the ride is to fall all the way back down.  I know that frightening drop with no emotional parachute or brakes or gentle return to baseline is coming, and some part of my brain is always aware of it.

And here we are, falling, falling, falling.  The fear precipitating the fall has disappeared, and now all I have left is exhaustion and the desperate hope that the Designers That Be knew what they were doing and my emotional cart of life won't explode in a million fiery pieces on impact.  Except this time, I don't think there's any way I can escape that sort of end point.  This time, I know it's going to be messy.  I know there's going to be a long, agonizing period of clean-up before I can even think about rebuilding.

All I can do now is practice my Zen arts.  And maybe figure out a way to apply that invaluable lesson I learned about putt-putt so long ago, and learn to have a little fun even while my emotional self is exploding (something which, by nature, needs must be taken seriously, as do the expressions of it, as I don't want to be a horrific houseguest).

Oh, and don't think I've missed the symbolism of my new city converging with my life status.  The Designers have a great sense of humor.