The Inane Ramblings Of A Whiny White Girl
I'm like, slightly less than okay.
We had a teacher work day at my job today, and at the lunch break I had to go sit in my car and ride out an anxiety attack that struck out of nowhere. It's still hard to be in a room with a lot of people without masks, and here most people don't wear them.
It's probably just the diminishing light of the changing seasons getting to me, but I've started to feel down lately. It takes a couple weeks for my supplements that help with that to kick in. Any time I mention it to my mom, she immediately launches into her speech about how she doesn't understand people being sensitive to light at all, it's never bothered her and she doesn't need blackout curtains in summer either. Okay, great, good for you.
I've just been through a lot in the past year and it's finally catching up to me. Well, it's not like I handled any of the past year like a champ either, so let's just say the latest chunk of difficulty caught up to me. I was really optimistic about being able to handle full-time work and school and being a single mom for the first time, but the truth is I'm drowning. I'm going to ask my boss if I can just work four days a week, and I'm worried she's going to fire me if I need that. I don't think she will, because this place isn't like America. I'm always worried that I'm about to get fired, and that if I get fired I'll be out on the street by the end of the month. I don't think that happens here so often. But you never know.
I don't want to be a burden to anyone. And I don't know how others can be so strong and capable and just like, show up to work every day and nothing slows them down, they thrive on having tasks to complete and they really love... all of that, I don't even understand what it is that they enjoy about like, bustling about working every day. I wish I could make a living as a mystic. A friend of mine said I should study theology and become a minister or write spiritual books or something, and I honestly am considering it.
I feel like the lead teacher in my classroom doesn't like me. She never like, smiles at me or chats with me or anything like that. I asked her if I could leave a few minutes early today, because I needed to pick up my kid, and she basically said no because we had to have a meeting with the teachers of the class across the hall. Like all meetings, it was completely unnecessary and could have been distilled into an email.
But I do have two coworkers that I have a good relationship with. They're a bit older than me. (The universe always sends me extra moms, somehow.) They're nice and understanding, and we chat a lot. One is divorced and the other battled depression last year, so I feel like we're kindred spirits and I like them.
I feel like... I miss Austin so much. But it's not just that... It's kinda like... I've been so lonely for such a long time, I'm realizing. And even when I was in Austin, I wasn't really enjoying it to the fullest because I was lonely in my marriage. And it may be awkward for people to read this, but it's like... When you're not happy in your relationship, going out and doing things with that person really, in a word, sucks. Like, you may be sitting in a great little cafe, but you're miserable. You may be swimming at the pool, but you're just watching everyone else have fun while you try to find a happy place to retreat to inside your mind. You're living your life wishing you were somewhere else with other people. So now I think of Austin, and I get really angry with myself that I wasted the years that I was there being unhappy.
I wasted so much time that I could have been dancing down those streets and getting to actually *be* there. Instead I was, like, trudging, full of rage because I felt trapped like a fucking rat. (Shout-out to rats, who actually make great pets and are super cute.) I remember the little bungalows painted sweet colors, with string lights in their gardens every night. They fill me with yearning. I wanted to live in a house like that, but with someone who, like, I could breathe when I was with them.
Why did I wait so long? (You're not supposed to look back, you're supposed to look ahead.)
Because I didn't think I'd ever meet someone who was a better match for me. I didn't think my person had been born. I figured they were just hanging out on the other side and I'd come here alone. I figured I'd just be kind of a gypsy. (You're not supposed to say gypsy anymore, it's pejorative.) A nomad, then. So I lived my life that way. I never stayed anywhere long enough to really take root. I just figured that, like, "the road" was my home, so to speak. Or "the wind," or some other self-indulgent 8th-grade poetry BS. The wilderness. Perpetual motion. That's where I belonged. And if I felt a little lonely, that was just because I didn't have a tribe this time around the wheel. They were on the other side, and I was here by myself. And when I died we'd be reunited and everything would feel a lot better.
That was my sin. Because I ended up committing to people even when I felt, deep down in my heart of hearts, that they weren't *my* people. I thought that no one else would put up with me. So I made promises even though as they came out of my mouth, I was dismayed to find the wind still blowing in my heart. I hate lying so much, but I lied to everyone, most of all myself. I paid for it, eventually. It tormented me inside until I couldn't take it anymore.
So maybe this time of continued loneliness is some penance for that? Is that how this works? A little more alone time. Just sit there. Learn your lesson. Feel sad. Feel scared. Feel alone. Don't just talk the talk but walk the friggin' walk of relying only on the Great Spirit for everything you need. You cannot do a better job at running your life. Deal with it.
Guide me every hour and show me what to do.
I'm not from here, I'm lost, and nobody's coming to find me.