Wake Me When It Is Over

I am ready for January to be over.   The fresh start that is February is sorely needed right now.  

Observational Comments, No Whining Intended

I am going to do my very best to avoid whining, lamenting, self serving analysis and anything else that might generally lead to a pity party.   Of course, this leaves me quite uncertain as what I am left to write about in this space (one of the reasons I have not been heard from 'round these parts lately).   Maybe the best compromise is to "try" to do all of the above things and to avoid with all due effort spiraling into self pity.   Maybe not.   But here goes nothing.

I am having some trouble.  Little surprise.  I am always having some trouble.   But this trouble is different.   I am having trouble with the news, and my general environs.   Everywhere I turn, disaster lurks.  Retail carnage, bank failure, mortgage defaults.   Closer to home, friend's engagements dissolving or involvement in protracted custody disputes or loss of employment or worse, displacement from their homes.   Disaster lurks around every corner, and I am sleepless.   Better to be sleepless, than unemployed or homeless or emotionally brutalized, but try as I might to build a hard outer shell, I am affected and I can't escape it.   And so, I am either drinking wine or Nyquil'ing my way to sleep, neither of which is a long term solution.   But unending sleeplessness is not an option either.  

On top of all of this, I have chosen, or life has chosen on my behalf, to have this month be the magical mystery tour of confronting the painful aspects of my past.   Kicked off in late December, this tour has now included people who have dumped me recently and in the last millenium,  people who are too upfront and those who are subversive,  people who are currently married and people who are recently divorced.   In any event, they have all (to my surprise) picked up the meal tab, so that is a plus.   At least the emotional gauntlet is not affecting my household belt tightening regime.   As such, given all of the above, it is January 16th and already, I feel completely weary.   My stomach hurts, my lids are heavy with fatigue.   I am over it.   But I am not quite done.   One more week, culminating in a visit back to my old firm.   The first one.  The one where I came of age as a baby lawyer.  It is here where I will confront not only bosses past and assumptions re myself and my position in the world from a bygone era, but I will also, more than likely, come face-to-face (in such a way that he is forced to actually speak to me) with The Boy.   When I signed up for the activity that was to take me to this location and expose me to these people, I originally thought I was hesitant.   I was nervous. But honestly, I want to see them.  I need to see them.  This is a part of my past -- both the work and The Boy -- that I continue to carry around simply because they (he) are unresolved.   Now it may turn out The Boy will clear out on the day I am around.   There are now enough people who know us both that know I will be present.  But if he does so, then that is a sign unto itself. He has disappointed me in so many ways, I would not be surprised by his lack of courage here. But I will hold my head up high.   I am proud of the fact that, while nervous to see him/anxious about how the interaction might unfold, I am no longer embarrassed.  I will walk in with my head held up high.  I have a right to be there and I have nothing to be ashamed of.  I am not the one in the wrong.  I followed my heart -- and it hurt me, and, well, apparently, it still does -- but that is nothing to be ashamed of.   His treatment of me is shameful, and he has admitted as much.   Of course, not to me.  That would require us speaking.   But I think the victory -- regardless of whether I see him -- will be my willingness to walk into the situation with my hed held high and to feel appropriate and proper in doing so.  

At least that is my hope.   I am emotionally drained and have very little left to give to cope with drama, so I am hoping next week goes well.   Figure when it comes to The Boy, the Universe owes me at least a little break from the excruciating/humiliating vein, and to leave me safely ensconced in the awkward/slightly nervous vein.   But we will see.  

If nothing else, it is crystal clear that these days, we do indeed live in interesting (and thus unpredictable) times.