Re-arranging a life

Tonight I put two and a half and a closet into boxes. Somehow it feels like a success. But also, a failure.

Moving makes us put our lives into boxes. This is Kitchen. This is Bedroom. These are Books. Those are CD's.

My inner self doesn't want to be compartmentalized like that. The person who reads Little Dombey listens to Louis CK? The person who watches Fight Club also watches Giselle?

For someone who's been in therapy for YEARS, moving puts so many things in perspective.

I am a complex human being. Fuck, we all are. And unlike my parents, I want to recognize all of those parts of me.

I also realize that there is a HUGE part of me that will miss Glostah. But there are things to look forward to. And with my new (albeit temporary) jobby job, I'll get both.

But what I need to - and am working on - learning, is that we all have LOTS of stuff going on. None of it is good. None of it is bad. All of it just is.

So, I'll continue to cry. And I'll continue to laugh. And I'll continue to navigate a life that will always be open to possibiluty

Exhaustion

Tomorrow, I work at the winery, making six out of seven days.

Tuesday, I drive my wonderful, lifesaving friend to the airport for, possibly, ever.

I have boxes scattered around my apartment, slowly accumulating my entire life within cardboard.

I'm waiting - impatiently - for a call-back on a job that would be a really exciting opportunity.

Now that my gym membership is reactivated - and given my expanding thigh circumference - I want desperately to work out. For physical but also major psychological benefits.

My mind is torn and pulled in so many directions. I want to trust the future and all of its possiblities. I know I'll mourn my excursion from Gloucester. I must believe the work situation will work itself out. But all of this trusting and questioning and wondering and fruitless future-predicting is wearing me out.

I have to take pleasure and solace in the wonderful moments I have, day to day. A laugh with new friends. A discovery of a new Pho restaurant in Woburn. An admission from my boss that she is very happy with my work and success at the winery. The adorableness of a kitty curled up in a cardboard box.

I have to get up in 6 hours. And make nice for 5 hours before I can come home and pass out.

I want to go to the gym. Desperately need to practice my yoga. But right now, my yoga is to breath in and out, remember and hold the positive closely and know that I can concentrate on lovely non-essentials when I get settled, comforted and at peace.

A Sum of Parts

I was REALLY depressed yesterday. It was partly physical (won't go into that) but also a sense of overwhelm. I'm moving from a place I dearly love. And that entails emotional closure, but also all the realistic aspects. I have to get the carpets cleaned. I have to find moving boxes. I have to rent a truck. Etc.

And then there's the fact that I once again have my place to myself. And I should rejoice in this. No more worrying about coming home. No more forcing pleasant conversation when I have places to be and things to do. But there is a sense of isolation.

Last night, I said to Good Buddy, "You're all I have." And at times I feel that is true.

But the reality is, it is not. A dear friend called me last night, not for advice but just to bitch. To hear me tell her - and it's true - that she is a wonderful mother and an amazing person. One of the most wonderful person in this existence is worried about me being comfortable in her "former" space. Girlfriend is moving overseas and she's thinking about me! I have a myriad of people who know me and like me, however "superficial" our friendship might be. I have much to be thankful for.

So, in a way, I think this depression is about the uprooting of a life. All of the little things - the ppl at the convenience store who started to carry pineapple juice just for me. The ppl at my breakfast shop who have actually named a breakfast sandwich after me. The imprint I've made with local organizations. Hell, I even have "Farmers' Market" friends who share their stories and listen to mine. And I don't even know their names!

All of this is part of my emotional state. But I also need to realize that I've started over before. And I still carry memories of the good parts I've left behind. One ex referred to the waking of morning birds as "The Dawn Chorus." Another ex loved to cuddle just after waking. "So cozy," he'd say. A friend was amused that I put jelly on one side of a bagel and butter on the other. Another friend knows how much I detest olives and will stress this point at restaurants on my behalf.

I am losing a lot with this move. But I know I will carry fantastic memories with me. As things end - sadly or needfully - we still have our memories. And those are precious. Those are the things to hang onto. When I start to cry, when I'm feeling so alone, these are the things I should remember.

Eye Openers

Tonight I facilitated a fundraiser for a Republican candidate for US Congress. And, I must admit, many of the people were personable and approachable. They sported much bling - gold, diamonds, gems, etc. But they were mostly nice. However, when it came time for speech...

There was talk of morality, of taking back America, of reducing deficits and eliminating hand-outs. People clapped and cheered at the rousing speech.

He talked about deficit spending but didn't mention an unbudgeted war. He talked remaining ahead of China but didn't mention the numerous tax advantages to corporations who offshore jobs. He talked about protecting Vets but didn't mentioned unfunded (and-ill-founded) wars. And, of course, he talked about a budget deficit without mentioning that Clinton had a net-positive budget and the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan were waged "off the books."

All of this is rhetorical and idealogic and ya'all know what side of the fence I fall on. But here is my final reminder of why I am who I am.

I worked the fundraiser because I was outsourced from a job and haven't gotten another in this restrictive economy. I worked it because I like meeting people and I'm willing to be open minded. I worked it because my rent was due.

And then I heard a woman say (and I quote:) "If the poor don't like it, I don't care."

There you go folks, a return to moral values.

Jesus, I suggest you put on your Manola Blaniks and forget about The Meek. It's all about taxation structure after all...

Wow - Look at me!

I have an 8 a.m. Skype interview. (So, why, you ask, am I blogging at 10ish? Hello my insomniac friends.) It's a really interesting position and one I think I could be super successful in. And the decision process will be relatively short - they want to make an offer next week. I think I'm the lead horse in the running, but one never knows.

I spoke with Amazing Therapist about this today. The application process - and exponentially, the interviewing process - is really putting yourself in a vulnerable position. In reality, there are many factors at play. Are they a good fit for you? Are you a good fit for the role? Do you have the qualities they need or are you over-qualified and likely to become bored? None of these are "self judgement questions." If you get offered the job, it's because it's a good fit. For you. For them. If not, well, some puzzle pieces don't size up.

But it is SOOOO easy to take it as a judgement. If I don't get hired, there's something wrong with me. Something deficient. Maybe I didn't answer the questions right. Maybe they didn't think I could do the job. Maybe...

So, I'm in that precarious situation. I want to believe I want and can get this job. But I also don't want to find myself devastated if I don't get it. I sent my resume in less than a week ago. I haven't really had time to mull over the myriad possibilities. But I know that, if I'm told they've offered it to someone else, the likelihood is I'll go downward tilt, at least for awhile. So my homework for this week is to keep in mind exactly how demanding this whole vulnerable process it.

Because no matter what happens or what they decide; look at me. I sent in my resume. I went through the trouble of searching the job boards. I personalized the cover letter. I dressed up and went on an interview. I put my portfolio up for review. I exposed myself to a delicate situation.

And so, Amazing Therapist has asked me to hold this truth: No matter what happens, I've been brave. Really, fucking brave.

That said - I'm still asking friends and sundry to send me some serious light for this one.

9.5 hours and counting...