The Words I Don't Say

I talk a lot.
I get nervous and uncomfortable and the words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. I will tell a silly joke. A lame story. I'll talk about a TV show or a movie or a book. A song I happen to think about. I can't shut myself up.

I say stupid things because, for whatever reason, I need to keep talking. I need to fill the empty space.

There are those--some that matter, some that don't--that hate this quality. This quirk. This flaw. So often, I grimace at my own voice, willing it to quiet, rolling my eyes at this incessant need I seem to have for communication.

Maybe I'm trying to quiet the words I don't say.

I complain more lately.  I don't like it. Negativity is so "not me." But I hate lying even more and I'm not good at it. The words, "I'm fine" aren't so believable when my blue eyes are filled with fresh tears and my fair skin betrays red, angry blotches.

I'm easy to read. I can't hide my feelings so I know the words I don't say are plainly evident, even as I try to drown them out.

But I still wish that I could say them.

Reunited (And it feels so Good!)

Guess what I did tonight? (Yes, I'm writing, but that's not the answer I'm looking for...)

I've been having a rough day. (Or few days. Week. Month. Year. Life. You know. Well, you don't, because I haven't been writing, but you might know bits and pieces. Anyway.) When my eyes filled with tears for the hundredth time today (in the middle of Costco and for no good reason,) I wondered if maybe it was my time of the month. I had to check my calendar--I no longer have the plumbing, just the hormones, so it's harder to keep track of. I had a boyfriend in high school who used to track my period. When I'd get upset, he'd pat my hand and tell me sweetly, "It's okay. I know you're having your..." Want to guess what I thought of that at sixteen? That guy would be pretty handy to have around now, especially if he came prepared with wine and chocolate. Alas, I make due with a dot in my datebook. Not until next week. Hm.

Rather than feeling sorry for myself, I decided to try to change my mood. I mentioned to a friend tonight that I miss Turbo Kick so after the kids were in bed tonight, I dug out a Fan DVD that I ordered ages ago. I have 3 of them, but it's been so long, I can't remember which rounds I like or don't like. Round 36 sounded vaguely like one I remembered liking, so I went for it. (Note to future self: Yes, you like Round 36.)

The familiar warmup put a smile on my face almost immediately.  I was surprised how quickly everything came back to me. The punches and kicks, the form drilled into my head from hours and hours of Turbo Jennie yelling, "Keep your guard up! Hands by your face!" I even remembered the "twist" that took me weeks and weeks to even figure out what was going on when she called it out.

It was fun. Not, of course, as fun as clapping and hollering in a sweaty studio. Not as fun as facing off with Jennie. Or the time Sara Rrrrr got up in my business and I whispered,  "I think I just saw your IUD." But still fun.

And I feel amazing. I probably won't feel so great tomorrow since I can't settle down, so I'll be tired, and I'm sure my body will rebel at some point, but for now, I feel great. This picture doesn't do justice to how pink and sweaty I was, but my smile captured the exhilaration I was feeling pretty well. 

No more tears...for tonight,  anyway.