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Monday: My boss took the day off work so I was in charge all day. Ten hours, busy all day but not end-of-the-world busy, and we had a manager from another store help for a few hours in the afternoon. She wasn't actually much of a help, but at least we had someone able to approve anything over my not-high-enough-when-there's-no-manager limits. And we survived with smiles on our faces. Tuesday: The bank was closed, thank god and the veterans, because I desperately needed it. Mom called at 8a, and even thinking it was Sunday (not working and there was church going on next door), I knew that meant something was wrong -- a famiy friend who needed a liver transplant passed away Monday evening. I was on my way to Target and had to take a moment on a stoop because, well, damn. The rest of the day was quiet -- cooking, cleaning, running, reading. Today: No work scheduled because I volunteered to help assemble gift bags for an LGBTQ organization awards dinner happening tonight. Went to work anyway because I needed to talk to my boss about a situation from Monday that took too long to send in an email. Good thing I did because my boss did not come into work after all (her son was sick) so me in my jeans and Chucks tried to keep things moving from behind the scenes and to set the team up for success to do it without Bosslady or myself. And had a crisis about what to do -- go home and change and work or go to the gift bag setup then go home and change and work or just do the volunteering and stay away from work. Thankfully one of my coworkers told me, "Erica, don't let the bank's problem be your problem," and since he's the most senior banker and in charge when I'm not there, I felt a lot better about leaving for the day. And no one ever contacted me so they survived. Yay. Volunteering was okay. The organizer was super cool and nice, but the gift bag crew was disorganized and got in each others' ways and had too many Indians trying to be chiefs. Got in my own groove doing my own thing and didn't have to make too much small talk. Felt good about being there and doing something that helps promote good in the world but was glad when it was over. But while I was there, I got a text from one of my roommates -- our landlord has decided to sell our apartment. Oy. We have to vacate by December 31. Fantastic. It was such icing on top of a stressful cake on what should have been a relaxing, feel-good day. Oh well. I cleared my head by getting coffee and saying hello to a barista I used to see at my last bank then sitting by the East River for a long while working on a crossword and gazing out over the water every now and again. And then I came home and did laundry and went for a run and ate dinner and talked to some friends and called my sister and continued to try not to freak out very much. Moving is moving, and it will suck, and finding a new place is rough and expensive, and I'm probably going to have to ask my parents for money which I HATE but is just the reality of the situation and won't kill me, and there we have it. And that's okay. It really is. I've had moments of feeling a little like I'm hanging on by a thread but I am able to convince myself that I'm tougher than falling apart at life happening, and then I am tough and don't fall apart. Because this is life happening, and this is the life I choose. There have also been a couple of moments where I don't feel alone, just lonely, and I wish I had someone by my side because I'm getting too old to do Life all by myself all the time. But then it's okay and maybe it will happen soon enough and if it doesn't, that will just be what it is. Tomorrow will start the Craigslist searching and talking to my roommates about what they are planning and if anyone is interested in continuing to live together, etc. but tonight I'm not going to go crazy with trying to Make Sense out of anything. I'm going to talk to my sister when she calls me back and watch Grey's Anatomy and take a sleeping pill because I did not remember that drinking a triple latte at 2p is not a good idea. And make a list of Good Stuff, because there is and always will be good stuff. The Good Stuff:
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This weekend was very needed and is very appreciated. Except for the bit where I couldn't find $2000 at work on Saturday. That bit lasted an hour and a half and had me very convinced that I was going to have to invite myself back to my parents' house in a month. Thank god it was a work error and fixable and everything is fine. It was after that that the weekend became what I needed. Treats from Francois Payard Bakery (pricier than I realized but oh-so-good), video games and wine and homemade dinner and a walk along the river in beautiful weather with dear friends, long talk with Carlos about being a terrible person and once again being so grateful that my best friends are truly good people, such good sleep. Today I got up early to do laundry, got coffee and read in a park while it washed and dried, hung it all up right away (I do still need to make my bed), cleaned the kitchen and bathroom, took an epic nap full of lovely dreams, ordered great Mexican food, caught up on several TV shows, went through my OkCupid inbox to actually respond to message that have turned into a couple of potentially fruitful conversations. The perfect combination of relaxing and productive -- what I needed to start recuperating from last week. I wish I had another day before going back to work, especially since this week will be busy as well, but at least it is a good busy and not another week of busy because people weren't at work for various reasons and all the responsibility falls on my shoulders. The bank is a well-oiled machine when all its people are in place. If one person is gone, it starts to fall apart. If four people are missing, it is a goddamn train wreck. That was Wednesday. Anyway. Monday = work, volunteer envelope-stuffing event after work (looking forward to hanging with old work people) Tuesday = work, date with a new guy Wednesday = work, feels like something after work but I can't remember what Thursday = work, Shonda night with the boys Friday = work, movie or crash Saturday = annoying roommate moves out! Sunday = profit |
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It's been a hell of a week, but I haven't really talked to my parents for quite a while so as I left work tonight, I decided to enjoy the beautiful evening and call my mom while walking to my express train. She asked about my weekend, and I told her I was picnicking with Mike and Carlos and possibly a couple of Mike's teacher friends. "Oooh, any single male friends?" And it took everything in me not to snap "fuck you" to my mother and hang up the phone. I hate when she does that. I can feel pathetic and undateable and invisible to people all by myself. I don't need her help. I HATE it. And I shut down. I didn't want to talk to her anymore, but I felt stupid and petty for it so I stayed on the line and answered in monosyllables and tried to sound interested in the pets and Dad's upcoming fishing trip and the weather. And then she remembered to mention that the wife of a man who is like a dad to my dad has cirrhosis of the liver and has been in the hospital and was on the transplant list but something happened and now it's too late for her to have a transplant and she went home on Thursday, and we danced around the word "dying." And I stopped moving and silently cried on a street corner next to a parking sign pole and wanted to be hugged so very badly but there was no one to hug and no one to ask, and I felt so guilty for being shallow and petty before and for wanting this neverending loneliness to be filled by some goddamn romantic whatever. I hate it, and I want to give up, and I can't, and I hate that. The guy I saw a couple of times earlier this month disappeared. Second date was a lot of fun; he said he wanted to see me again when he walked to me to the subway. Less than a week later, he stopped responding to texts, not even a final "I assume you're no longer interested, have a nice life" one. I've been the disappear-er (once) so I know that it's not always about the other person, but holy hell, it feels like it's about me. Especially when, in the course of dating in New York, it's the ... fourth time that's happened. It's making me bitter(er -- which isn't hard, since I seem to be especially bitter lately). I'm irritating myself. It's time for bed. Let's hope that means it's also time for sleep. |
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It's 230a and my brain won't shut up. I'm tired and sleep-deprived, but my mind is racing racing racing. So brain dump:
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Food for Thought: As an introvert, I need time to myself to recuperate from and reenergize for interacting with other people. But there are a handful of individuals whose company never grows old, people I call my kindred spirits. They are the select few I always like being with and never tire of. It occurred to me a few days ago that I don't tire of them because being with them gives me energy -- being with them is like being alone, in the best way. Ninety-nine percent of the human population makes me want to hide in a closet after a certain amount of time, regardless of how much I might like any one of them as a person. But the one percent who are my kindred spirits -- their company rejuvenates me the same way closet time does. It used to make me feel a little crazy (I like being alone, so why do I like being with certain people as much or more than being alone?), but this realization comforts me. Anyhoo. |
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Roundaboutly ended up spending time looking through Facebook photos of my ex and then of his brothers tonight. I really miss his family. Sometimes I even miss him. It's weird how someone can look so familiar and like a total stranger at the same time. I've only talked to his parents once in the last seven years. And not at all to his brothers. He never got to know my family well, but I spent so much time with his -- they became my family too. There were times when I chose his family over mine. The twins became like my little brothers. They were wild, funny, wonderful kids, and I would love to know how they are doing. I wish I wasn't afraid to reach out, but it could be more painful to find out they don't care. It doesn't feel pleasant to know that he doesn't. But it's life, and part of the story of breaking up, and I'll live. It's not a Big Deal; it's just a Thing. A Thing that niggles every once in a while, and I can deal with that. Sigh. |
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I just had this imaginary conversation with my younger sister, whom I generally perceive to be more beautiful, intelligent, creative, and thoughtful than I am: Me: You're everything I want to be, you're so much better than me. Sister: But I'm not. And that doesn't mean I think I'm perfect. I had a kid a year ago, and parts of my body are wrecked and make me feel weird and self-conscious and frustrated and ugly. Me: And yet I'd still give anything to look more like you than like me. I'd probably give a leg -- I would. I would give up a leg if it meant I could be thin and beautiful as naturally as you are. And then I laughed aloud. Because what the hell kind of thought is that. It took me so far out of myself to a place I needed to get to in order to see how ridiculous feeling bad about my body is. Yes, there are a lot of changes I can make to be healthier that will impact my self-perception in positive ways as well as give me more energy and confidence, but giving a leg? I just can't. Buck up, Erica, you are you, be you giantess or be you ant. So stop all that and just be for a while. Your motto in life can and will no longer be my perfectly healthy leg for a socially acceptable body. |
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Thanks for the love, peeps. It's been a long couple of weeks, but I'm mostly okay. This weekend was extremely helpful in buoying my spirits and recharging my batteries. Nothing fancy, but a lot of quality time with people important to me interspersed with actually-restful sleep and kitty-snuggles (cat-sitting). It's really about time for me to buckle down and just get a cat. Plane ticket for the end of May is purchased. A full week at home, and I'm very much looking forward to family time and relaxation. Mom and Dad will probably be working some of it, but my sister and her family will be in town the same dates I am. There will most likely be a day in Fresno for friend visiting then the rest of the time at home. I just want to be on my parents' property in the sunshine watching Elliot play as soon as and for as long as humanly possible. That's been my happy place lately. Thirty-eight days. |
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