A case of the maybies

For some reason I woke angry this morning and irritable. I've cycled through my mind trying to attribute why: Is it because Chris will be leaving for Maine soon and a friendship chapter will be closed? Because dirty dishes made loudly last night at 10:30pm when I was trying to fall asleep were still in the sink this morning? Perhaps because it's still snowing and I don't feel comfortable driving to the gym where I hoped to pound out my mood on the treadmill? Maybe it's the $400 ticket home I want to buy for Spring Break and the frustration that so much money must be used to get to where I want to be? Or maybe it's confusion over what's next -- after earning the masters do I stay or ditch the program...can I face the apparent uncertainty and ambiguity of setting out again? Or maybe I feel angry at my anger and uncertainty? It might also be the final paper for my Belize class and the fear of imperfection that's nagging at my mind.

Even last night I was angry. And on and off through out the day. Maybe it's because I started taking birth control again yesterday and I'm anxious how it will react with my body (and if it will be similar to college where I began wondering about thighs and having greater mood swings than usual).

Maybies. David would say: Is there anything wrong with this moment?

Ah, there is nothing wrong with this moment -- but this moment always leaves. And in its space is new possibility and new vulnerability. In its place comes choices.

This dialogue is my process of meaning making. Robert Kegan in his book, The Evolving Self: Problem and Process in Human Development, points out that the zone of mediation where meaning is made is called by personality psychologists the "ego," the "self," or the "person". Further he writes, "This book is about human being as an activity. It is not about the doing which a human does; it is about the doing which a human is...being a person is the activity of meaning-making."

Sometimes meaning making alone is too much for me. We need others to tether our process and affirm patterns and trends. We need others to know that our meaning making is worthy. In fact, if reality can only be experienced in relation to others -- is this not also the case with meaning? Kegan writes, "Meaning depends on someone who recognizes you. No meaning, by definition, is utterly lonely."

And so perhaps I'm just lonely? Craving physical contact in the form of a hug or a body to sleep next to. Or daily opportunities to process with another in proximity. I wonder if there are other ways to satisfy that chemical need within the body since Matt is still 2 weeks away? Maybe I will go shovel snow?