Sunday night I was awake most of the night, worrying about Mabel and tossing around with my dilemma, trying to figure out what to do. Yesterday I was on edge. Teaching was a respite, and after teaching, I worked out in a mild frenzy, making the time pass until I could take Mabel to the vet.
Relieved that Mabel was ok, I felt much better by evening. I was upset again after reading B's blog because I felt hurt that I was not invited out last Friday. And that just set off the chain reaction, where the other troubles lined up to be counted. Then the phone rang. The number was blocked on the caller ID. I had a sense that it was B. At first, I was not going to pick up the phone. I was too tired, and I just wanted to sit in the dark in silence. But I picked up just before the voice mail kicked in. I was glad to talk to him, and I felt better afterward, though as usual I felt awkward on the phone. But I don't like the phone, in general. I like to be able to see the person with whom I am talking. I didn't mention Friday; I knew it was not B's fault and I did not want him to feel bad.
The intersection of feeling and action is one that I still, after all these years, do not really understand. I am uncertain whether to act on feelings in so many situations, and when I do, I sometimes feel like a loose cannon. It might be better to keep it all under wraps, protected from intrusion (or extrusion) by a wall.
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