A little all over the place, but now shaded

I think I felt all the feelings today, but a lot of things happened.

The carport was finally repaired. It took seven months and in that time I received zero communication from the office despite my calls, emails, work orders, and visits. The maintenance guys were the only ones to talk to me about it and thankfully they told me work would be done today. They said it had been a nightmare for them to try to get it replaced and it took forever for the materials, so that explains the wait, but not the office's actions. Maintenance also said the office would send a notice about the work, but of course that didn't happen. I'd moved my car and the others were at work, so that worked out. 

I had a nice connecting talk with some coworkers, made progress on projects, and got let go by a nice yet unsure man I'd just started seeing. I appreciated him telling me, and it did seem as though he was unsure about many things in his life, so I wasn't surprised, but it was a little disappointing anyway. I can relate, because I usually feel unsure but I have gotten used to that, so I just try to make my way with that feeling, not expecting it to leave. 

I got some rough news yesterday and some rough news today, but today I was reminded of the Rashi quote, "Receive with simplicity everything that happens to you." It makes sense to me because there is often nothing to be done about it and it often turns out better than I thought it would. Yesterday I cried at the probability that I would have to redo a very painful procedure, and today it was disheartening news on the job front. The bearer of today's news saw my reaction and said not to get down by it but to trust in the bigger picture. I would love to be able to see more possibilities in my immediate reactions than just the bad news. I wonder if that is a conscious movement of perspective or seeing evidence over time.

Tomorrow is a different painful procedure, so perhaps it's fair that I am feeling dismayed. But tomorrow I get to have the I Don't Care meds, and I am looking forward to not giving a shit for a couple hours. Today my kind massage therapist brought my medic alert bracelet by after I'd forgotten it at her office several days ago. Discussing the biopsy, she said to look at it as though I was being core sampled, and that made me laugh. When the contractors were building the new carport, I brought out cold bottles of water and a Powerade- unsure again, thinking they probably had their own water, but they were very happy and grateful, so that was nice. And when they were gone, I moved my car into my shady carport, and my neighbors who live above it came rushing out to applaud. They have been such great supporters, lamenting the delay, chasing people out of my parking spot, and even making requests in the office on my behalf- asking them to at least mark my spot somehow until the carport was fixed. It was nice to celebrate with them!

And Sarah came to hang out tonight, so we ate some food, caught up, and looked at mens. She knows I can get reluctant to try. To take you on a weird analogy, it feels to me like when worms are stranded all over the sidewalk. I cannot bypass them to dry out and die, so I move them to the grass- every single one I find. When looking through potential people to meet, there are some definitely nots and some maybe, but most are probably perfectly fine people that I can't tell enough or don't feel any particular way about, but don't all those deserve a chance? I can't pick them all up off the sidewalk so I start to feel overwhelmed, but then Sarah and I look through together. I explain why I'm stuck on an arbitrary guy and she offers some practical point. I've also been watching Hoarders because it motivates me to 1) get rid of things and 2) get rid of things the way I'd like. The swiping exercise today had me thinking of Hoarders because I was stuck in a house of profiles I didn't know what to do with, and my organizer/psychologist showed up and now I'm cruising through, able to say keep or go. That was another unpleasant metaphor for dating. I'm going to have to wrench my perspective toward a more positive example.

Jennyway, my point was that many lovely things happened today too, especially because it's supposed to get very hot this weekend and I have a shady spot for the summer.

Groceries'll get ya

I get sad every time I leave Winco. Not inside- usually. Just outside when I push my cart into the parking lot and over the speed bump because it entertains me. That makes me think about Ant pushing the cart all crazy when he was little. Then I get sad and a little mad. I marvel at how long the people close to me have been married, and how they can really choose if they want to do things with friends or just be with their person. It makes me wonder if they ever think about that when weighing my invitations: I wonder if she’s lonely. I put my same groceries in the same car in the same parking lot for ten years. I try to see myself through Ant’s eyes now: still Jenny, still the same. I put the cart away and think about when Ant was always with me- when he was young enough to run everywhere. Returning the cart was his job, and he took it seriously. He would look both ways carefully, knowing I was watching. Then he’d push the cart all the way in to the corral and then jungle gym his way back out, dropping to the ground and running back across the lane, forgetting to look, me yelling at him to look, having already looked. Routine. We’d go home the same way, but now I go straight instead of turning right. I think about how alone I am. Ant has grown up. Riley’s gone. Daniel’s gone. Gus is gone. I’m still here.

Maybe I need a new grocery store, but it’s really more the other things: I need a new job, a new home, a new love story. Besides, have you BEEN to Winco? It’s lovely. I chose to come back to this area because of the sidewalks, the trees, the grass, the routes, and my beloved Winco. I don’t think I would feel so sad if anything had changed for me in all this time. I couldn’t have known that, and things will change. I like to think I am proactively grieving now so that I don’t have to do it when I put different groceries in a different car in a different neighborhood. Maybe writing this will help me stop feeling so lonely, and maybe one of these days I’ll walk into my home and someone will be in there making dinner. Let’s hope it’s someone I know, haha.

Emotional support human

I just wanted to take a moment to applaud- or at least acknowledge- my dog's emotional growth. That sounds insane but wait. When he came to live with me he was quiet and meek. He was an ANGEL and I was amazed that I'd received this precious baby boy. Then he got comfortable and started destroying birdseed bags and climbing onto chairs to pee on them and no one believed me that he was anything other than a sweet baby precious angel. His personality started to show and I learned that he was brave and maybe a little reckless. He loves all dogs and only shows aggression when he's hanging from another dog's mouth. That only happened once, with a breed you wouldn't expect it from, and faster than either of us owners could react. That is the only dog Gus stopped wanting to be friends with. Well, that one and the Corgi that antagonizes him, but he forgets and starts over with that dog every time they meet. He's like Dory when it comes to making friends. 

He also showed me his fears, like abandonment or a running dishwasher. For years now I have been running my dishwasher at bedtime, when we could be safely snuggled in the bedroom with a movie on to cover the noise. I try hard not to ever run it during the day and I would never start the dishwasher and then leave him alone with it. He used to leave the room as soon as I'd start it but in the last couple years he has worked up to going into the kitchen to get a drink or even check his bowl while the evil machine was humming. Lately he's stayed snoozing in his bed, seemingly unfazed. I was just trying to plan out my bath vs dishwasher timing and realized I can probably try running it in the daytime now, though I'll still watch him for stress and take him for a walk if it starts worrying him. I'm just impressed with his growth and trust in his safety. It makes me wonder what kind of slow growth I've had going on over the past few years. He's a good model for bravery, resilience, and optimism. He's also no longer afraid that I'll throw him in the dumpster, but maybe that's because he can't see anymore.

Sad day

Leo left today for Florida. We had two months of warning but it still had us all upset. Sunday we did a big furniture swap- he wasn't taking any so he bestowed it on the group. We moved his couch and chair, his entertainment center, his dresser, nightstand, and kitchen table to new homes and shuffled whatever it displaced. On Monday, we had a goodbye party and sat outside eating snacks and chatting. We took lots of pictures. Today I happened to be off so I was able to hang out with him until he left. I helped him put the last things that would fit in his truck and promised to find homes for the things that didn't. We took lots of breaks because he was already tired and it was nice to sit with him a few more times. A couple neighbors dropped by to say goodbye and said to make sure he texts the core group nightly because otherwise we'd probably send out a search party. We've all cried and everyone had their individual goodbyes. I got to see him off and we both cried then. Megan came home later and we went into his apartment to assess the task list, but ended up just diving in. We cleaned and sorted and heard from Leo before we got too worried. He made it to his first destination, so we shared the news and then sat in sad exhaustion for a while. I was hoping that we were somehow taking on his exhaustion so he'll have the energy needed for this trip.

It's more than just a dear friend moving away, though we hope to visit. It feels like the end of an era, like the fellowship is breaking. It is, I'm sure, because nothing this good lasts. This has been an amazing group of neighbors. Weirdly enough, COVID created our bond and delivered Leo to us. We all needed some local family and we found it on the breezeway. We got each other through a pandemic and have been there for each other through plenty of other crises and celebrations. The night one of our dogs got attacked, this building came alive with protectors. We're protective of our people, but mess with our animals and we come unglued. It's amazing to know that support is right next door and across the hall and downstairs. 

Circumstances dictated a new chapter for him, as it will for all of us. Rent is outrageous and that's even with shared laundry. There's no budging on that front so I guess we'll all have to rethink our plans at some point. I think this change will be better for him, though it'll take time to see it that way. I hope that's the same for all of us.

Leo's absence was felt immediately by all of us and I've been informed that we're not going to like the person(s) that move in. I remain optimistic because I can't help it, and I like to believe that community can change and still exist. But we miss you already, Leo, and I hope you know how much we love you. We wouldn't clean just anyone's apartment.

Coming back

Mom says Jan always said the key to happiness is to have no expectations. 

Does that mean stop having them or override them? I'm not sure if the inclination is stubbornness or naivete, but I have no idea how to stop.

I feel really disappointed, for big and piddly reasons, and it's not like I'm exempt from letting people down. I keep looking for someone to confide in or vent with and maybe that's the hard lesson- that person is yourself and you've got to navigate it alone. Maybe that's what was meant by the north node. That sucks. 

I saw a thing online that said if you think everyone hates you, you need to sleep, and if you hate everyone, you need to eat. Sound advice, I think. Simple things. Things like writing.

I'll take it

It's hard not to kick myself, and maybe some of the lessons are soaking in, because I'm finding some forgiveness for my actions... or inactions.

I feel so doughy and it's depressing, but there are many logical reasons and even wins in that. There's the whole pandemic and needing to stay home, all the telework and grazing, and not many options for going out and trying new things. I was trying to reconcile grief and hope through almost all of 2019 already- 2020 was supposed to be better. Instead I lost my love and access to my therapist just as COVID hit the US. There is no one to help me pay bills or make food or wash the dishes or take the trash out or run to the store or anything to keep myself and my home and my animals running except me. That takes up a lot of time. And these animals have also struggled this year. We've been at the vet a lot and processed an assortment of prescriptions. Half my department at work left. Lots of people I love are having babies, which makes me sad for not getting to my goals or having someone to share them with. It is entirely understandable that I consoled myself in some of the few comforts available: warm water and food.

But you know what I didn't do? I didn't smoke. After I put Riley down I drank vodka and got myself a pack of cigarettes. I only smoked that one and that was the last one. It used to be my first thought when something awful happened. I have been in slow, shitty grief for two years and haven't once been tempted to smoke. That is a win! You may not know how hard it is to get to that, but it often takes years, repeated tries, and resisting an eternal longing. Congrats, Jenny, on not smoking.

I'm legitimately proud of myself for many things, but right now the piece I'm happiest for is the exercise program through the VA. It's to help overcome significant obstacles and I just did not think about how much of an obstacle being on insulin is. I should say that I knew how big it was, I'm just used to navigating around it. This very sensible and knowledgeable person is helping me navigate not around, but through. It feels different to look at it that way, and I'm finding stability and success. I'm grateful for the coach, the program, and that I kept looking. 

I made four attempts to hire a virtual personal trainer online before I found that program. I was so frustrated that I was reaching out and getting no response. I figured it must be the wrong time or the wrong person. I even found someone who sounded amazing and I was really excited to get started. When that didn't happen, it felt like the universe was just smacking my plans down. I am proud of myself for continuing to look even though it was feeling very discouraging. 

Shame doesn't work. So this must be something else. 

Processing

I am stuck in some really bad feelings and I think I have to find another therapist. Mine moved just as COVID hit and I lost my Night Bus. I thought it meant that therapy was done but I guess it was just that round. I know this year has been sad for a lot of people and I have a lot to be thankful for. I also know that my sadness is valid and that I'm going to have to sit in it alone.

Writing is hard when you know you sound whiny and trite. It's a slow, thoughtful process for me to decide how to share how I feel, but sometimes it's the only thing I can do. So here are some things.

I keep a show or a podcast on all the time just for the noise. I fall asleep to it and when it turns off, I wake up soon after with anxious thoughts. I worry about my classes or things I haven't done at work or remember something really important. The only time I don't have noise is in the shower, and that's where I think about sad things and cry.

Mini is on 3 meds and Gus is on 2 meds and 2 supplements; his are all twice a day and 2 of Mini's are once a day. I had to make a chart.

I have tried four times to hire a personal trainer in the last six months and the universe is just not having it, which makes me think either I don't need one or I haven't found the right one.

Today my work team met at our old office to go through everything we had stored there. I'm sure there are old things that brought up but I was struck by how easily some people made decisions. Old file folders were thrown out- I would have organized them by type and probably color, put them in the supply closet, and even reorganized some of that stuff to fit. Yes, they were old and tired and had labels on both sides of the tabs. In my world, how often would I ever throw file folders out? We were halfway through the day before the question of staples came up. Can you put staples in the shred box? I always pay attention to the instructions on the box. Some have said no staples; some have said staples are fine. These boxes didn't say. It did say recyclable material only, and to me that means white paper, no stickies, no staples. We did try to ask, but got no reply in time so the team decided staples were fine. It was a decision I COULD NOT go along with. They did their piles a lot faster, but I pulled staples or ripped the corners off. Why am I like this? Can you imagine the things I keep? I have a bag of dead water filters and a bag of old toothbrushes in my car, waiting to find a place to recycle them. How can I dispose of old nail polish safely? I don't know, so I keep it. My heart hurt throwing those file folders away, even though they were old, beat up, and falling apart. I keep bits of ribbon in case I can use them to wrap a present. Maybe this is why the crows I feed don't bring me shiny treasures: they know I already have too much shit. Maybe I'm the crow.

Every time someone tells me they're pregnant, I have an involuntary breakdown. It's like being mown over by grief tornado: not much warning, varied damage. It whisks me back to knowing I was pregnant before realizing that I knew, and experiencing something like 4 days of joy and plans before a painful miscarriage ended the excitement and, little did I know, would take down my whole relationship. It makes me think about how guilty I felt- sure it was due to diabetes and not finding out for 10 years what the real problem was. It reminds me of how vulnerable and terrified I felt on the operating table about to get my tubes tied. It makes me angry all over again that the gynecologist knew I would likely miscarry and didn't tell me. It makes me think about fostering and adopting kids and realizing I am STILL not in a place to be able to do that. It makes me think about how many friends and  family have partners that seem so dedicated to each other, that they can depend on each other and can share the everyday tasks and be best friends and that I'm alone. That makes me sad and angry about my Night Bus and how he should be here and I don't even know what happened and that most people who know about it think I'm an idiot.

If I tell people I'm still sad over losing my Night Bus, most tell me I need to let it go, or worse, that he wasn't perfect, which is enraging because I am not an idiot, or they say having a partner has its downfalls, which makes me wonder if they remember what the benefits are. 

And I know there are benefits to my side. When I come home, nobody calls out from the couch to ask me what's for dinner. I watch exactly what I want. I control the thermostat, and I don't have to compromise. I always get to drive and sing loud and I can rearrange the furniture anytime in any inefficient way I want. I can read late and sleep in. I can stand in the gift wrap aisle at TJ Maxx for 40 minutes and sort all the gift cards if I want, which I have done, and thoroughly enjoyed it. I also don't have to be in a box of anybody's ideas about my limitations- just my own box, which is hard enough to get out of, thank you very much.

Sometimes I like that none of my ideas go together, and sometimes it looks like a pure mess. I do like that I don't fit, and I'm getting better at going with what works for me. Hopefully I will be able to hold my own lines and not smush to fit in somebody else's box. My favorite sad joke these days is in response to an astrology app that says I'll find love later in life. That's good news, but... just how much later? 

Trust that I hate how much I want love. I don't think there is anything I can do to fix that, though. I am a meerkat for love, and that is just an eternally hopeful part of myself that I cannot kill or ignore. Sometimes my optimism and pessimism even each other out and I can get something done. Sometimes I find items in my closet that unintentionally match and it looks like I did it on purpose. Sometimes I feel proud of myself or that I'm a fun and interesting person. Sometimes it all works, so maybe the love and the littles and the thoughts that didn't work before will line up and I'll have all the things or most of the things that I want and I'll feel pretty satisfied. And then I'll have to complain about something else.

Today I talked with a woman who has lost a lot more in the last year than I have, and she talked about how no one's grief is worth more than anyone else's. She shared some good advice about grieving in a book she's reading. It said to not be afraid to tell friends what you need. I don't know if that has occurred to me. She also said there is nothing to do but keep going and I wanted to blurt out "I just keep passing open windows" from the John Irving book but I didn't. It's not a cry for help; I find it funny. It's just that even when it's really sad, something usually propels us forward despite how little sense it seems to make. I just keep passing open windows and eventually something works and I feel up again. I see though that I am grieving more than just my Night Bus and that I need some perspective and tools from someone trained to help. I'd like to find some peace from the noise inside so I can turn off the noise outside.

The only way out is through.