Something more than nothing. I can do something more than nothing.
I have always been a liminal creature. So it is not a great surprise that tonight I find myself both disconnected and re-engaged. Out of sync and on track. Forward and back all at once.
After meeting with my cousin, I am looking at my strengths. I’ve taken an assessment and am waiting until I can buy the book required for the other one. Then, we’ll talk about it. It is good. I don’t mind the very professional aspect of this part of our conversations. It’s like schoolwork. I want to do well to please. It is part of the plan for me to get a new job. When I talk to her, it’s feasible,
I have a wonderful friend who decided she wanted a job in her company and even though it meant moving out of state to get it, she applied, got it and is now up and moving a month or two later. For me, I ruminate for years and suffer as I do so. I would really like to understand that I want my life to feel boldly executed. Based on a value, a vision, and not a fear.
We also talked about my mom which was infinitely harder. I am supposed to ask questions. I am supposed to want to ask questions. I am, I gather, supposed to engage. I nod while I take this in. I am not supposed to empathetically attempt to commune with her fear. I am supposed to see if she wants me to go to her appointments with her. Supposed is not the word. It’s a way of handling it that is better than the way I have which is disengagement, which is siphoning fear and letting it balloon in my throat. So I called her because I hadn’t called or seen her in a week – mostly out of fear as to what the news will be, but there still is no specific news and talked very briefly…she seemed okay, distracted, of course, and yet, pressing her even slightly about what we could make or do for dinner tomorrow and she handed the phone to my dad who had zero idea why or what or…
I have such feelings about that, that I have to bottle them up now or I will not make it into the necessary bath I must take.
I did put the water bottle in the freezer last night and have had cold water half the afternoon. This wouldn’t be so remarkable, but as an ice-craving person with a fridge that makes ice that tastes and smells of garlic broccoli, having a cold drink you don’t want to gag on was very charming. It was a sign. I could do something more than nothing.
I keep, obsessively and compulsively, reloading that page for a message from you. This is no longer a tenable situation. Everything is playing out exactly as you explained it would – this long gap between letters – a result of a medical operation. Surely, I feel that if you cared to ghost me out, if that was the deal, well…it all thus far would have read very differently. Who knows. I selfishly feel as though I can just will it to be different. There is zero reason to believe this likely.