Love Theme From Romeo and Juliet.

I have been writing a lot more lately.  Obviously not on this forum.  They are mostly private thoughts, swirling as if in the wind.  Little vignettes.  I made mention that if I wrote a few sentences (or more) every day that I may find an overall theme.  I have, and I did.  It’s just a matter now of not writing solely to that theme, but continuing on with my every day ruminations on life, love, happiness and sadness.  Making sure I don’t play into one thing more than any other.  Balance has always been a problem for me.  I binge on one thing until I am sick of it.

The whole landscape at work has changed drastically.  Krista is gone.  Miranda is gone.  John is leaving.  (And in five months I will be leaving, too.)  Doug, Jamie and D will be the sole survivors.  Miranda left for maternity leave, and then she had to take a night shift position.  The only benefit, she says, is that it provides extra income.  With her gone, D has begun leaning on me for support in the room.  With new individuals, she has looked to me and Doug to train them, answer questions, be a support system for them, while simultaneously relaying to them what is expected of them, how they should preform and act in the room, etc.  I am only now beginning to understand the strange structure Frankie had to maintain while in her position.  You have to bond with those you work with, or the work days will become absolutely unbearable.  But to have to hold a note of authority with those same people, to have to be able to speak up and tell them that they need to move faster, talk less, etc., it begins to chip away at whatever fragile links you have begun to form.  It helps if you have people who understand that tenuous bond, that whole friend and foe extreme.

I am nervous about the future.  In the back of my mind, no matter how prepared I might feel, there will always be nerves.  It is a part of me.  My anxiety goes hand in hand with my depression, as well as my anger.  I have found coping skills, something that was in the making in my high school days, days where self mutilation and excessive pill taking were what I once used to cope.  Now there are breathing exercises, the written word (and I am not speaking of religion), and some times just letting all the emotion out.  Sit there, and for no apparent reason to those around me, just cry and cry.  It’s those times when Jonathan just rubs my back and lets me sob, and he whispers “I love you” into my ear, and I cry harder because he deserves better than the blubbering mess that I am.  No I don’t, I love you.  YOU.

There is a good chance we will be heading to California come July.  UC Davis has made the connection; they want Jonathan.  The professor called him and told Jonathan he has the strongest profile he has ever seen, that he would really love to work with Jonathan, because it seems they have the same interest (conservation biology and ecology), and the different array of work and schooling Jonathan has had will be added bonuses to the study this professor is doing.  The professor said he would do all that he could in order to get the best monetary compensation for Jonathan, and all Jonathan has to do is visit the school and make sure he can see himself out there for the next five years.  This drastic change of location is something I want, something I almost need, but it is feeding the anxiety.  The fear.  And the depression.  I vacillate between being beyond excited and having so much worry and fear that I am paralyzed in my life because of it.  Insomnia has been my great friend this week.  I have devoured three books because of sleepless nights.  I have discovered countless new bands because of this.  I have found a muse.  And yet, I don’t want this muse.  I want inspiration to be a powerful, benevolent being, not something so self-deprecating as depression and insomnia and the barely controllable desire to just drown in the sorrows and liquor and pills of my past.

I am still learning.  Still ever changing.  We never stop, and despite my knowledge of this, I can’t seem to shake the “want” of an end.  When I reach this age, I will be who I am meant to be for life. It brings a certain relief, however, it also brings a whole new set of worries.  What if I don’t like who I am?  What if this really is all I am meant to be? Dichotomy, dichotomy, dichotomy.  Two sides to everything.  The good and bad.  I like the Jewish understanding of “good”.  It’s encompassed in the biblical word “tov”.  It means “all that is not evil”.

Recommendations:

  1. Book:  In Fact: The Best of Creative Non-Fiction edited by Lee Gutkind.  A wide array of creative non-fiction (example: the personal essay).  It makes you think.  We are a quilt, ever different pieces connected in the same fabric.  Unique and inseparable.
  2. Music: I won’t name songs, but give you three bands/singer-songwriters to look up, because I have been beyond fascinated with them these last months.  Editors, City and Colour, and The Rocket Summer.
  3. Television:  Jonathan and I have been re-watching seasons 1 & 2 of Dexter.  We just purchased season 3, so hopefully we will dive into that.  Love Michael C. Hall and what he does with the character.  Dexter, the character, is unique in and of itself, and Hall rocks it.

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