Broken Record?

I know this blog is starting to read like a one-note symphony. My head seems to be stuffed with end-of-café issues. I suspect it’s because, immediately after the fact, I set all that aside and concentrated on resting and recovering. Unfortunately, no amount of rest seems to be enough. That became obvious last week, when my venture at the County Fair turned into an eight-day post-traumatic flashback.

It’s no surprise to anyone who knows anything about trauma: part of the recovery process is bringing the underlying issues to the surface and dealing with them. I thought that I had worked through those issues enough to get away with it. I had intentionally set the negative emotions aside and constructed a laundry list of all the reasons the cafe had not succeeded—from the economic climate to the scarcity of cooperative vendors. Things over which I had no control, and about which I had no clue going in; and proved to be more of a challenge than I could face alone. I thought I had constructed an iron-clad case against labeling the demise of my business venture a personal failure. Good and logical reasons, all. Very rational. But, apparently, rationalization is not the same as dealing.

Today, I feel as if I am right back at square one when it comes to the ignominious end of “living the dream.” Exhausted, sad, and desperate for something that will provide me with some personal validation. If the last eight days were a test, I failed. Miserably. I fell right back into the same destructive patterns I had developed over five frustrating years of being over-challenged and under-helped. So it’s time to stop wondering why everything I do turns to shit, and start owning my role in the excrement metamorphosis process. I’m sure it’s considerable.

And tomorrow is my birthday.

I so want it to be a day of celebration of where I’m going; rather than a tear-sodden reflection of where I’ve been. I don’t want to spend the day feeling sorry about where I have been the last five years. I want to see it as a learning experience; pack up the lessons and move on. If only it could be that simple.

Considering the call to balance I’m feeling on my life these days, I suspect that tomorrow will be—needs to be—a combination of joy and sorrow; anticipation and regret. Giving one more emphasis than the other will not move me in the direction I need to go.