It is late June. It is a Thursday morning at 2 am, and I cannot sleep. In part because my sleep schedule is off. In part because my back hurts and I am imagining all the twists, pushes and pulls that might realign my spine and pelvis. Because the muscles hurt, but only because they seem to be compensating for joints that aren't working as well as they should. I am worried it is something permanent or an injury I never took care of. It is summer and humid, and everything is more puffy.
E and I are moving in together. We have a little spot in Whittier neighborhood. I am recognizing at 12:30 am, the little things we need to do to make it feel good. I have to run to target for a new memory foam topper. We will need a small shelf or cabinet for food as the kitchen is relatively small and between us we have too much kitchen gear despite neither of us cooking all that often.We are fantasizing about an air fryer.
Tomorrow my Dad is coming to take the last of the furniture from my place, two book shelves that have been holding the hundreds of books I own. Another small book shelf that has functioned as a night stand. The art desk (a drafting table?) I bring from place to place and never use. This creaky ass desk I have used throughout covid for my computer. The bed.
After that its all small trips (at least from my place)-more kitchen gear, bathroom stuff, books and books and books. Bins and Bins. From hers, a different story. Maybe a couch? Maybe a desk? Maybe 20 more bins? The new place is wonderful, but small. We need to practice letting go of things. That has been the name of the season of our lives, even as we join together.
Last week I quit my job of over two years. It was planned, and still it was difficult to let go of. I still haven't written the goodbye notes/letters I promised. E assures me its fine -assures me that its because I want to speak from the heart, and haven't had the time yet. I am not so sure. Each day I feel more distant from that place, despite the fact that she still grinds out her days there (often miserable). Given what I know, I have a hard time believing the place will be ok, it seems a season for destruction not creation. The new staff are not on board... the old staff are burnt out. The new leadership is out of touch.
I had a very difficult time of letting go, but now I am trying to distance myself mentally and emotionally, and so far its working just fine. Perhaps because I have next steps to attend to (moving out, moving in, traveling, next job, relationship, friends and family). I went from cleaning out my office to cleaning out my home, and it doesn't feel bad. Just time consuming. The changes are welcome. It's about time.
We lost the pregnancy officially about a month ago. The procedure was brutal. I held her hand and wanted to yell for her. The grief has been different for each of us... really I am not sure she has even had the time. My memory might be off (lots of stress and loss lately), but I remember her going back to work the next day, and having non stop crises at work ever since. The drama of the place has kept her moving forward, along side moving, along side little family crises, along side... I worry E has never had time to take care of herself and won't know how when we finally get some rest. I worry she will struggle when I leave for Europe for a few weeks. I worry she will hold it against me for abandoning her. I spend far too much time worrying about the things she controls, but an equal amount of time being grateful for the things she holds for me.
The grief comes in little pockets. Suddenly everything is slightly warm but not comforting. Its a sadness, a feeling of disappointment about something sacred, its Christmas morning and not getting the present you wanted. I say all this knowing that in my heart I wasn't ready, but I was willing to be. I say all this knowing that it was a relief to finally have an ending after the ambiguity of a month going to doctors visits and no one just speaking the truth. I say this because despite the mixed emotions and thoughts and fantasies and worries, I have moments throughout the day or week, when suddenly I am in a pocket of sadness and sometimes I don't want it to go away, and sometimes I do. I am just trying to accept it for what it is, to not judge the moments when I push to the next thing. To accept that there will be time, or the grief will make the time unexpectedly in the middle of some other thing, will create a moment for me to be sad. I haven't been writing much. I suppose I have been busy, but also just pushing forward. It was an abortion* and then a graduation, and then a goodbye, and then a new place, and then a trip, and then a
And of course all the while the globe is on fire, and the news is non stop awful, and E's family has a celebration or an issue, and my family has a celebration or an issue... and I can't sleep a lot of the time lately. Some mix of excitement and worry, of too hot or too cold, of pain or discomfort, of desire and need. I am back to sleeping in a little after E goes to work but it is a slog to try to get her ready some days... who wants to go to a job they despise?
Tomorrow we basically move in together officially, though some of our stuff will still be at the old spots.
I am excited. I still have my doubts and worries, but I am excited.
In about two weeks I head to Europe. 9th-28th. Then we have a few days with E's Dad and family.
Then I need to get a job, hopefully a higher paying one. She's got lots of bills to pay and it would be nice to see her leave the hellhole that Headway has become to go someplace she might be more satisfied.
