work: day two

Yesterday I was so tired after work, my brain on overload and my back hurting like the dickins, that I fell asleep at my kitchen counter, fork in hand, my head resting on my arm… Before this happened I had made myself a little dinner, and thought, “i’m just going to rest my head, right here, for a minute before i go and finish this food.”

Except I awoke a little while later out of a pretty deep sleep when my phone’s text message alert went off…

So I ignored the text, cleaned up and shuffled to my bed (aka, sleeping bag on the floor: yes, still) and fell asleep.

Ten thirty rolls around and I wake up, still groggy, and then moments later my neighbor and a friend go outside. It’s chilly out at night now, so I keep my windows open. I enjoy the fresh air, the sounds of the evening (animals chirping, tree rustling, etc.) The friend says, “you gotta make yourself better,” and she giggles and asks how. He then goes on to tell her that she’s picking the wrong guys (i believe this is about the same guy that I prayed that she’d break up with because of his comment that “we’re not gonna have strippers at my bachelor party, we’re gonna have prostitutes!” Yeah. I thought he was an idiot) and should choose better. He then goes on to say something about someone else being on drugs (maybe the ex, i have no idea, since they also brought out a cell phone playing stupid music i couldn’t catch everything. and i wasn’t eavesdropping… they were speaking rather loudly) and he was technically bragging about how many different kinds of drugs he’s tried, is doing. He even listed them off. Apparently gang members were scared of him and the amount of drugs he’s taken, and they often asked him who his contacts were.

Right.

Well, then they go inside. Blessed silence. Except now I’m wide awake. Like, I want to stay up all night and read a book or write a story awake. Except, now I can’t do that. Now I have to be up in the morning to be at work at 8. About an hour later (I’m still wide awake) they come back out. I think the first time they were outside they were smoking weed. The second time I got whiffs of cigarette smoke. Whatever. This time the music is louder. Their voices are muffled. I don’t know why they have to turn it on as they come outside… maybe they can’t have a conversation without background music. She does giggle a lot, though. I think this was a booty call, even though she technically had called him to complain about not picking the right guys. Because I’m pretty sure, after they smoked their cigarettes/weed they had sex. Sex is a natural part of life. I know. But maybe close your windows or try to keep it down for the baby in the next room…

I think that maybe she’s not meeting the right guys because she’s looking for him in all the wrong places. Because as her little baby slept/cried/whimpered in the room right below me, she was getting involved with a kid (and I mean kid… they were hardly over 25 or so) who clearly thought he was the “top that” kid from Teen Witch with his drug use. Good idea. Go from deadbeat moron to guy who proclaims his grand amount of drug use to the entire apartment complex.

Choices, people. They make all the difference.

About a month ago I interviewed for a job. It seemed semi promising but like most things in my life at this point I didn’t really expect anything. Not that I didn’t want the job, or didn’t hope for it… I’m just sort of in a place where if things happen, they happen – if they don’t, they don’t.  So, interview went ok, but then I didn’t hear anything back from the agency. So, I figured… onto the next. Truthfully, maybe I was a bit frustrated. And doubtful. Despite my overall reaction to take whatever happens in stride, that things will happen, and I can’t control the outcomes… despite those things I wanted to be in control. And again, it felt like things were out of my control. Which of course means that I get all moody. Great. I really have to work on fixing that ridiculousness.

Now, that being said… the other day I had an emotional breakdown. But it was a good one. I tend to keep in my emotions, bottle them up and use them against myself. To be fully honest, sometimes my introverted-ness makes me lonely. Not alone, because I’m not always alone, but maybe in need of social interaction. But that comes at a cost. Being social for me is kind of taxing. If I spend a lot of time with people it’s like I need time to recover… kind of like when you feel like you need a vacation from your vacation. All this energy is set forth for interaction, all the energy gets eaten up, and then I’m left with being tired and spent, sometimes lasting for days. That’s not to say that I don’t like social interaction. In fact, I love it. But being that it’s such an energy-hog, I have to choose carefully. At the same time it makes me less apt to put myself out there. I’m not going to always make the first move, and sometimes I’m just going to avoid it altogether. And it also, I believe, pushes people away.

Crowds are overwhelming because I don’t know where to place my energy, and half of my energy is used up trying to make sense of and negotiate my surroundings. If I know people, I stick by those who understand my difficult personality. If I feel like I’m about to use up too much of someone else’s energy, I remove myself and walk away, tucking myself into my shell. And I think that because I’m ultra aware of my introverted nature, maybe in a way I expect that others feel the same way. So if I feel as though I’m going to be a burden in any sort of way – which can extend from not wanting to call someone in case they’re in the middle of something; to not knowing which clique to join (unless specifically asked) because they might not need or want another voice in the mix; to just not being wanted; to anywhere in between.

Wow. Ok, to the point. That emotional breakdown was a way for me to admit defeat. I was going nowhere. After nothing happened with that job, and nothing else seemed to be panning out (due, i’d say, to a lack of action on my part) I was frustrated. I decided to take things into my own hands. I was going to move.  Started putting in application to places on the coast. Considered other states, other opportunities. Screw this place, I have options.

So, during this breakdown, I cried out to God. The only unconditional, absolute, continuous support I get is from Him. Not to say that no one else provides support, but consistency isn’t exactly part of human nature. I realized that I was only feeling lonely because I wasn’t letting God be my All in All. I was determined to make things work how I wanted them to, when I wanted them to. So after all my new attempts to take back control, and then quite soon after I had that emotional breakdown, I got the call about a second interview. Same place, just different job. Which I was aware of their need in different areas. I knew there were more than one opening, and they were still transitioning and trying to figure out where their greatest needs are. Waiting this long to hear back is certainly not easy. But at the same time, I understood. I also fully understand the job market. This isn’t exactly the easiest time to find a job when there are sometimes hundreds of other applicants.

I go to the second interview, expecting it to be like the first one. It was going to be a panel of workers, so I assumed that I’d go in, still be myself, and leave and wait. Again. But I got there and after a few repeat questions from the last time I was told that they were ready to bring me in. It seems as though they were holding off saying anything until they knew for sure. And just as I was trying to violently take back control God swoops in and kind of knocks me back a few steps. He knew I was about to run, about to wrench back control and go off track… separate myself from His will. His gentle reminder, through this call for the second interview, made me realize , with total clarity, that I was working too hard to make things work out how I wanted them too, and who cares what the consequences are.

And yes, I know that this is where He wants me. I don’t know why. I don’t know for how long. I don’t even know if this means that the grass is greener on this side (though, right now it’s a shade of dried dirt since we’re pretty much dry desert with the lack of rain we’ve had.) All I do know is that my spirit is calm about it, compared to the fear that was controlling it before, and making me want to keep running.) Calm like it was when I first decided to head west and start this little adventure.

Finally, maybe it’s time I stopped pretending like I was putting my trust in God and actually start doing it. Because all these attempts to maintain control (and do I always have to make it a battle?) are only hurting me, and certainly not helping.

on a lighter note…

1: i love free books. even if they sometimes turn out awful.
2: i have a friend coming to visit me. this has lifted my spirits a bit.
3: i hate ants and giant-ass flies.

eh.

So after a lot of thought and prayer today (alright, after cramming today after a few days of wallowing in self-pity) I’ve come to a few conclusions.

1: I’m going to go back to school for one, some, or all of the following:
a. Writing.
b. History.
c. Forestry.
d. Photography.
e. Agriculture.

2: I want to live on the coast. Either Northern California, anywhere on Oregon’s coast, or… well, I’ll extend it up to Washington State (even though I still have my heart set on being an Oregonian.)

3: If the coast doesn’t work out, I want to live in the mountains. Near a river. Or an expanse of a field with lots of  wildflowers. And no bears, or mountain lions.

4: If that doesn’t work out, I want to live near whatever college I am capable of getting into. Also, I have to work on nixing those thoughts that I’m not capable of going back to school since my brain seems to be on permanent disability.

5: I need a dog. Not “I want a dog”, but need.  Emotionally, spiritually… I need a dog.

The last few days have been tough. Not tough in the sense of true difficulty, but in the sense of feeling inadequate and wishful and wildly unsettled. Again. My past in NY has come back to haunt me and I feel much like I did before I made this uncharacteristic move to quit my job, pack my car and skedaddle.  Of course, it doesn’t help when something you thought you forgave someone for makes an appearance, and you realize that the hurt is still there, the forgiveness is lacking… still able to dig deeper into your heart and needle away at your self-worth. It also doesn’t help when you let it get that far, instead of releasing it. Instead of surrendering that hurt and that pain to the only One who understands it.

I’m getting restless and I spent a good portion of yesterday trying to make myself want to move somewhere else, to experience another part of our grand land mass. Colorado. Montana. Washington. Nevada. Arizona. Back to Virginia. Lots of perks about being there.

But is it just me?  Am I just unhappy no matter where I am? I never feel right unless I’m constantly moving around, driving somewhere to get somewhere and nowhere at the same time. I’ve even gone so far as to consider getting a cheap little camper and just living place to place through our many campgrounds, essentially “homeless” in the traditional sense. Even now this sounds outrageously wonderful and kind of perfect. Sure, it might get old after a while, but… some of those little campers are cute as all get out.

I mean, come on. This is freaking adorable. And if this sense of calm that comes with the imagining of this particular lifestyle continues as it is right now, a few months from now I just might be doing that.

Am I afraid of commitment?

Yes. I think so.

Have I swerved away from my dependance on God for the outcome of my life? For guidance? For direction?

Again, yes. I know so.  So today, after fighting with myself on the topic of wanting to get in my car and drive somewhere, anywhere, I forced myself to stay here. At home. In my overly-large apartment (it’s really great, but I need far less space.) I’ve been shifting between severe annoyance, wanting to chuck something into the field behind my apartment so that it would break. Only, empty boxes wouldn’t break, and I couldn’t part with my vacuum cleaner just yet. I’ve been irritable with sparks of anger – at myself. I’ve argued with God about my inadequacies, and lack of education. I started writing a story about a woman who picks up and does something completely out of character, only to get mad at myself for not being as brave as my character.

Moral of this pity party… stop trying to take control. Again. You’re screwing it up.

Because I am capable of changing.  I am capable of letting go, and following where God is leading me. All I have to do is stop arguing with Him, stop trying to tell Him what I think should be happening, and making a shoddy mess of things. If I want a better education, then do it. If I want to live by the coast. Do it. If I want to start listening to God again – DO IT.

People keep telling me I’m brave… but the truth of it is that I’m a coward.

But I don’t have to be.

And that’s where I can start again.