Not exactly getting it. I thought perhaps it was the vitamin. I think perhaps it is the salt. It couldn’t be the stress, surely, it couldn’t be. Last night I could not sleep again so I stayed up, trying to not force myself to relax, trying to just via osmosis crash and that didn’t happen until sometime after 2a.m., after the new QI episode, and a lot of Civ IV, and that was with force. Lay here, lay here and be still and be wildly uncomfortable, because you must sleep. My mind was not giddy, my mind was not going over all the usual traumas and upsets, it was just running again. Just feeling crazy.
I don’t know. I really don’t.
The co-worker wants me to assert myself with the boss about going back to full-time when I already know that’s a ways away financially so I don’t see the point in trying to discomfit the boss in front of everyone. It probably just boils down to not wanting to confront someone I know is facing ten kinds of stress to get confirmation on an answer that I already know and am already deflated by.
We’re moving in two weeks, everyone’s pretty passive about it, considering that we don’t know where we’re moving, none of the other jobs are emailing me back and I am just ffff. I am the apotheosis of ffff.
The location is back on the table, though perhaps not for all of us. The others are pushing for it. Maybe in their minds it makes sense. For me, it feels like a punishment heaped on a year’s worth of shin-kicks and head-smashing. I really do feel like I am being barred from a happier future. The wall, whether it is in my head or made of brick and rebar, it’s not letting me pass.
I feel really small and weepy today and I know that some of my friends have felt this way and I’ve done what I know how to buoy them and they’ve done what they can for me. I just feel like I’m dragging around an anvil.
But, then again. There was an article in the New York Times about Adrienne Shelly today, the actress I have loved for nearly twenty years, the actress I felt deep kinship with – or more to the point, an op-ed by her husband who has endured in the face of her horrific, nonsensical murder at the hands of a 19 year-old Ecuadorian immigrant. Endured not only the enormous loss but the attempts to politicize it, to explain it as though the immigration status of her killer was a complete motive and explanation for the act. The op-ed was to say what we all know is true, even if the painful experiences of our lives might drive us to feel otherwise, that all of us have to measured as we are. Not under some false banner, under some lump categorization that might or might not apply. That Adrienne’s murder was done by a murderer, not by some illegal immigration hive mind bent on destroying our country.
And my little message of support to her husband was heard and that, that makes me feel a little less numb. A little less self-focused. A little less me against the world.
We try again tomorrow.