By all rights, I should be unhappy.  I have been struggling on my own for four weeks now, with another two and a half before the Rocket Scientist comes back from Antarctica.  (You know those studies that say you need a certain amount of physical contact to be healthy?  I think they’re right.)  I lost a job that I had in the bag that would have been perfect for me — a candidate showed up for the same job who had six years  more experience at the experience. The house has gotten messy.  The Red-Headed Menace has been sick. I’ve been grouchy. The world in both micro and macro spheres scares me.  I have been lonely.

And I have been unhappy; all of those things have been weighing on me.

But, just this moment, everything seems okay.  I am sitting in the local Starbucks (where else?) and for once I like the music they are playing.  The sky outside is slowly dimming into late afternoon beauty, streaked with just the right amount of clouds.  In half an hour, we will have a wondrous sunset.

Railfan is mowing the lawn. The Red-Headed Menace is better, and may be on tap to cook dinner.  I am hopeful I will actually get my laundry done.  I am considering going to the local dive where I went for the Super Bowl and having another Guinness.  I applied to another job that I know I would love, but I am not even thinking about whether it will come through.  If it does, it does; if not, then not.  I have other things to keep me occupied.

I wrote to a dear friend this weekend catching her up on my crazy life.  She wrote back, catching me up on hers.  Last Friday, I received the most lovely email from another friend, saying that I had been talked of “with great affection” at a lunch between her and another mutual friend.  I was moved beyond words.

Connection: it is so important, and I am so very bad at it.  I am so scared that no one will want to be around me, that no one will care, I can’t see the people right in front of me.

I have a deep and abiding — and, I have been assured, completely inaccurate — belief that I am pretty much forgettable.  I have been asked whether this is because in some way I wish to be forgettable and forgotten, that being otherwise places actual responsibilities on me. I can’t answer that question.

I even spent time today trolling through LinkedIn and adding connections.  I know a lot of people.  A lot more people than I remembered that I knew.  And some of those connections were to people who I like a great deal, and of whom I have fond memories.

I ran into a woman from my former church today.  I have not been to any church — other than sporadically — since I left three years ago, now.  She was glad to see me.  “I haven’t been to church in a long time,” I said,  not looking at her. “But you are always welcome back,” she replied.

It seems that all my bridges have been burnt
But you say that’s exactly how this grace thing works
It’s not the long walk home that will change this heart
But the welcome I receive with the restart

“Roll Away Your Stone,” Mumford and Sons.

There is a great deal to be said for just sitting and letting the world flow around you, and thinking of all the wonderful people in it.

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2 Responses to

  1. smilecalm says:

    May you breathe with ease, feeling happy and safe in your heart.

  2. DataGoddess says:

    Trust me, you’re not easily forgettable.

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