Destination Unknown. Emotional greige.


Because it’s nearly Mardi Gras and even navel-gazing blog posts need dance anthem inspired titles.  I love you big time, Alex Gaudino and Crystal Waters.

Every so often, you hit turbulence in life.  There are all the expected (or at least anticipated) shocks and bumps.  Somehow, being prepared makes them a little easier to accept, even if coping seems out of the question and close to impossible.

I’ve hit some strange emotional turbulence and, like the most dramatic head banging, meal tray toppling plane turbulence, it has come out of the blue.  I don’t know why, I just feel all sorts of emotions for no good reason, for unpredictable amounts of time.  It’s not delirious happiness or rock bottom depression – it’s just vague ‘neither here nor there feelings’ without precipitant.  Uninspiring, unflattering, unsettling emotional greige.

Coincidentally, I think this photo captures the essence of greige.  Both in tone and composition.  I am on my own personal crusade to give greige more recognition.  It has its place in fashion and I think it should be a key shade for A/W 2010.  Which isn’t actually all that far away.  Damn.  I’m contemplating saving for a Kelly, falling pregnant and trying to survive the training year.  I think a Kelly is a small fair price to pay for surviving the double rigours of pregnancy and getting my letters.  Oh and damn also for the prospect of having to buy maternity clothing.  That’s a lot of damn for one paragraph.

Sigh,  Fasten your seatbelts, we’re in for a bumpy ride.

So, I’ve taken it to the blog.  If it’s out in the blogosphere, it could very well dissipate as a carbon emission, as the megabytes pip through wireless modems, or however it is that data dissipates these days.   No ones’s paying for carbon emissions these days so it’s like they don’t exist ergo hopefully the greige will cease to exist.  Sentences containing ergo.  They do not work well on Monday nights after 15 hour shifts.

In times like these, I like to blame hormones.  Mine, the ones in the chicken I got from Coles, contraception, the stuff in the water.  Hormones.  Any hormones.  Which was working well for me until R correctly (bless) pointed out that I don’t get ‘hormonal’.  Apparently my skin changes (from dodgy to downright disaster) but no, R only observes cyclical skin changes and no emotional ones.  R delivered that observation about my skin in such a matter of fact way one night I was floored and had no idea how to react.  It’s not a ‘girl’ thing to say.  He couldn’t understand why not.

I reckon the simple answer is that I need a holiday.  R and I need to get on a jet plane out of Sydney and immerse ourselves in a strange place.  Just the two of us.  Even just planning a holiday will give me a sense of freedom and something to look forward to.  It doesn’t matter how much you love the place you’re at (physically and emotionally), sometimes you’ve just got to get out there and mix things up a little. As a creature of routine, this is a pretty bold statement.

The complex answer is that I am drifting along in a spiritual sense and need to get re-anchored.  I reckon I’m brave enough to tackle this too.  It’s easy to drift away from religion when life is treating you well.  Then and unexpected drama happens and you’re left feeling alone, empty and cut adrift.

If nothing else, writing this has given me food for thought and given words and identity to what I’ve been feeling.  It’s a good start.

I reckon it’s worked.  I am all greiged out.  I have nothing left to say on the matter of uninspired emotions.  I consider myself purged and ready to embrace the world in colour. And black.  And grey.  And beige.  But no more greige.


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