5 pm on a Sunday.

 I’m sitting outside at my apartment. I feel like I never noticed the wallpaper in the bathrooms on the first floor are weed themed. 

The hot tub is open again, and there are about 6 people in there chatting -gonna walk back up to my apartment. 

It’s funny how nothing in this place is really that comfortable. Not their couches nor mine. I should get à la z boy. 

I’m sure most of the folks in the hot tub knew each other, but the casual talk of a group… the way it must remain somewhat shallow, it reminded me of being at a hostel, amongst a group, wondering when to chime in. Wondering if I have anything of value to add to the conversation, wondering if I even want to have a conversation with these strangers. I’m sooo antisocial. I was thinking today as I got groceries that I am so set in my ways, making things simple, ritualistic even, groceries on Sunday, laundry on Friday, the same basic meals, the same chores, the same friends. And when there is a special event I don’t cherish it, I’m anxious till it is in the past and I can relax again. 

I don’t go out of my way to try new things, at best a walk or a drive to a new neighborhood, or a different route, but even that is so uncommon on the whole. 

I’ve done all my things today and the one (other than dinner and dishes) that I have left is to write something positive about my dad. Something for his birthday. Why is it so hard?

Yesterday I spent about 3 hours writing to Ali, writing and erasing, writing and erasing. She responded kindly today. It gave me some hope, and then I left my apartment and remembered that not only did the government attack my community, but my parents defended them. Accused my neighbors and the protesters standing up against them of wrong doing. It’s not a policy. It’s a line in the sand… and that’s why I am angry. I have no doubt they’d cross the line in my moment of need, but to not be able to extend that… what then? And even then, only if it didn’t cost them anything too much… especially my step mom. If it were her or me, she’d choose herself and my dad would too. So on the personal and public, I lost trust. 

I don’t want to be angry all the time. I don’t want to be distant. That’s what I realized, writing to Ali, how many excuses I make to pull away, to hide because it’s so much more difficult to name and stay engaged. 

But can I just engage and not get angry? Do I need to start avoiding conversations? Leaving early? Dismissing them in my head and rolling my eyes as if they are children…

Is it that point. Give up on them. Let it go. Know their limits and build support for your own. Is it that?

I guess it is that.  That’s the conclusion everyone in their lives has come to, my siblings, my dads siblings, my step moms family (they all dismiss her). 

Stay part of the family and just don’t engage.

If I had my own support network, a group of friends, or a family of my own… it wouldn’t be so hard to let it go. I know that to be the case. I’d pull away slightly and rest in the company I choose to keep and I’d hold them so much closer. 

Being single and childless is hilariously dumb. 

I go to the grocery store and wonder how with my rituals and scheduled out life, in which I serve others but make no room for fun or social selfish time, I’ll ever meet someone. I think I might need to go on a dating app… and I hate dating.  I think I might have to join something, go somewhere, do something different. It would be nice if that thing would just pop out and make itself known. 

I’m back to all the old lonely shit. Nice apartment. Business. Stability. But no one I want to share it with. So may folks would just point out like… do something different. But I’ve taken classes and explored, and been around the world, and had jobs and volunteered and been part of clubs and circles and churches and I dunno. Sometimes it’s like… universe where are you?

My tarot today was overwhelmingly positive, except it started with the death and resurrection card. And maybe that’s what I need. To die to this life and start a new one.