Last night after dinner in Fayetteville I had coffee for the first time in ten days–two cups. It was delicious. When I got home my stomach was a little upset, and then I couldn’t fall asleep until four in the morning. (BZZZ!) But once I did pass out, I was out solid–I didn’t wake up until two this afternoon. Talk about glorious. What’s more, Mom and Dad were gone, so I had the house to myself! I realize this is something a teenager would normally say while simultaneously making plans to have a keg delivered. But I, being the responsible thirty-seven-year-old that I am, simply enjoyed reading a book in peace and quiet.

Other than reading, the biggest thing that happened today was that I went to the grocery store to stock up on Autoimmune Paleo supplies (broccoli!), and a cute guy said hello to me. There I am standing next to the canned fruits with my headphones in, and this total stranger starts talking to me. Well, it’s not like we had a conversation. He said, “How are you?” and I said, “Good, how are you?” I was so startled by the interaction, I didn’t even register his response. The next thing I knew, he was strolling toward the avocados. Thinking he DID look familiar, I almost chased him down to ask his name, but then convinced myself that he was a store employee.

You know, because the only men to ever engage me in random conversation are the ones that are paid to do so.

“Would you prefer paper or plastic, Sir?”

I often think this question sounds a lot like, “May I have your number?” Perhaps this is why I’m in therapy.

But I digress.

Later, after scoping out several shelf-stockers and item-checkers, I decided the guy wasn’t an employee, that we probably knew each other from “somewhere.” I also decided he was straight, since most people are. This is a thought I have a lot, that the whole world is straight and that if I’m ever going to meet someone, it will “just happen” and I won’t have to put myself out there.

We see how well this strategy has worked so far.

I think about this shit a lot, how much to leave up to the universe, how much to be proactive about. Not just with my (non) dating life, but with everything. Today I’ve been “blah,” and I think it’s because I’ve been worried about my body and my future. Stuck at home with nothing better to do and tired of not having the answers I want, I’ve obsessed over every little thing in my life that continues to be–in my opinion–broken. I don’t recommend this behavior to anyone else, but I did it still.

Looking back at my life, every major “thing” has either “just happened” or been so easy that it might as well have. Learning to dance, teaching dance, opening my studio–all of it just fell in my lap. Not that I didn’t have to put work into each of those endeavors–I did–but everything lined up; it wasn’t forced. And every time I’ve pushed to meet some guy or tried too hard? Disasters. Should-have-been-in-therapy-years-ago disasters. So I really am trying to strike a balance, to do what I can and then let go. In all things personal and health and job-related, I really am trying to be patient with the speed of life. But whereas I’ve always pictured patience as a sweet, smiling, long-haired lady in a white dress, I’m coming to see her as a frumpy, worn-out old broad with three chins. You know–sturdy–someone who’s been through the ringer and lived to tell about it. This is the kind of person I want to be (at least on the inside), someone who’s firmly committed to the roller coaster of life, someone who trusts every dip and turn.