My husband is "in his zone" which right now is defined by the downstairs coffee table tipped on its side. Within his zone he sorts though the mountainous piles of military gear, most of which he will be returning tomorrow.
I am coming down with something and feel listless, sad and disorganized. I should call various friends and make a date to say goodbye. I do not wish too and I already know that I will not. I will leave, as it were, in the dark of night. I will slink off, friendless, into virgin territory.
And there I will make no new friends. My verdict is in: I am not good friend material. I like casual acquaintances with whom I can make infrequent lunch dates at Asian bistros. (Since Keith hates Asian food, it's my only chance to enjoy sushi, General Zhou's chicken or red curry with beef.) I like casual acquaintances with whom I can keep up via Facebook and the occasional text message or infrequent long e-mail.
I do not wish for, nor am I any good with, anything more. I have moved through a few different emotional stages on this from "I am a terrible woman" to "I really should do better" to "I resent these societal obligations" to "this is just who I am and that's just what it is."
I still feel guilty sometimes and wonder what the heck is wrong with me, but more and more I am moving into acceptance and peace. Thank goodness. It's not like I'm thirty one years old or anything. It's not like I shouldn't have already come to terms with my own unique personality.
November 2nd
The walls above me are bare. My husband has gone off to work, wearing his jaunty black beret and looking rather mouthwatering. Tomorrow is our last day before the movers come.
I went up to say goodbye to my brother the day before yesterday. We drove two hours north, through Denver. I love that drive, I used to make it often. It's overlaid with a lot of personal history. This time, of course, I felt sad.
I felt sad about leaving my brother behind. Last night I dreamed that he died. My whole family is scattered all around; Scott and Merissa in Minnesota, Tim in Colorado, Keith and I in Kentucky. I feel like a bad big sister leaving Tim to fend for himself in this huge, far western state.
Which is crazy, because Tim is an adult, nearly thirty years old. He has two children, a job, a place to live, a car. He's fine. He's going to be fine. But I still feel like a big deserting sister.
I can't help but notice as I write that I do seem to take a lot of responsibility for what other people think or feel. I must be getting some powerful kickback for feeling guilty, because I sure do indulge in it.
I wonder what life would be like if I just stopped feeling guilty?
I'm quite certain that I'm mildly depressed right now. I always get seasonally depressed around this time of the year, I tend to think it healthy in the long run. Living in New Hampshire, I found it essential to be able to stay in tune with the dying light, to allow my own pace to slow and just ease into this half of the year.
But right now, not only is it that time of the year, but I am moving, so I don't have a stable base. I've been kicking my butt out the door for at least a small walk outside each day and drinking a whole pot of green tea as well. That helps.
But mainly I'm just holding on, doing one thing at a time and looking forward to when we will be settled in our new house. I'll have a new kitchen to lay out exactly as I like, rooms to paint and arrange, meals to cook, a garden to plan for. It will be our first new house together and the start of a while new phase of our lives.
I'll be fine, just right now everything sucks.
