I feel I've fallen down on my posting. It's not as though nothing is going on - I'm just not sure it's fit for reading. Lately my life consists of learning experiences, and you all know how I love those. I just begin to recover from one when I'm hit with another. I'm trying not to be tired, but I'm slowing. Maybe that's a good thing as it forces me to be reflective and thus more careful in my reactions. I simply don't have the energy to reach out and punch someone, which is what I really want to do.
It started on Friday with some rather traumatic news from a family member. Nothing deadly or impossible to overcome but a definite setback. I went into Mom Mode - and I wanted to hit someone, protect my chick. But this chick is a gallant soul with a great heart and he will be fine. (I still want to hit someone. It goes along with the Motherhood Territory.)
Friday night I couldn't sleep to save my life. So I wound up on Facebook catching up on everyone's assorted lives. I felt like a stalker so I switched over to a local hospital website, searching their job board. There were some promising offers so I filled out an online application. Ever hopeful. Taking some action seemed to do the trick, and I slept.
Saturday was the ward picnic. If you know me at all, you know how I hate ward activities. Hate. Them. This one wasn't really well attended, but there we were with our dinner to BBQ and a Texas sheet cake as our dessert contribution. It was okay. I just don't ever feel totally comfortable at ward things. It's a little disability of mine. Large groups of Mo's together = me feeling antcy. Possibly because in the 17 years I've lived here I've never really made any real friends. No real reason and no one's fault, except maybe my own. When I moved in I was a working single mom. Hard to make that demographic fit in anywhere, and it made me defensive and no-care. I'm not a real joiner under the best of circumstances so I tend to get swept by the wayside. My saving grace is L. He is not a joiner either, but he IS my best friend, and I am his. We're content in our splendid isolation from group activities - until we have to go to one. Then we make the best of it. And I guess we grow. Hopefully we do.
Katie and the girls blasted off to Boston on Saturday morning. They already had an invitation for dinner at another resident's apartment on Sunday, and members of their ward at church had made them feel welcome. One resident's wife from Utah told Katie she'd been there only 10 days and absolutely loved it. I have high hopes. Although Katie woke up Sunday morning with some kind of fierce stomach virus, and wasn't able to even get out of bed all day, she is out and about today getting their lives settled. Worcester has opened their arms to them, and I'm grateful. I can stop worrying (temporarily) about that little family.
I woke up myself Sunday with a headache. At first I blamed it on the ward picnic, but then I remembered I'd been called to be an assistant librarian at church. Kick me now. You couldn't have picked a room in the building that gags me more than that dusty nasty room. My mood darkened. I cried in the shower. Not so much about the librarian gig as just aboutt life in general right now. But definitely partially about the librarian gig - let's be honest. I just never seem to land callings that are interesting. I get pianist calls. And now an Asst Librarian call. I know we're not supposed to aspire to this or that calling but I would dearly love to do something that's at least interesting. BUT - as usual after I throw a little tantrum - I began to have little thoughts. Quiet thoughts. Thoughts that said, "Just do it for a month. Four times. How hard is that? And then you can see how you feel." And I calmed down. I could feel myself relax a little. And I marched to the library, and it's still an icky room, but it wasn't as bad as I thought. So we'll see how it goes.
I was able to go over and see my aunt for a little bit on Sunday evening. She's having a hard time since my grandmother's death. She's grieving hard. She not only lost her mother, she lost a best friend and companion. She lost what she considered her life's work and her reason to live. She is having a hard time trying to find out who she is now and what she wants to do with herself. She is difficult to be around, but I love her so much. I gave her my old office chair. The $700 one. I like to think it gave her a teensy reason to live. That chair would give anyone a reason to live - it's that comfortable. I am so happy to help her and do what I can do, but at times I get tired of the burden of feeling responsible for her well being. When we have a good visit, it's all worth it, but for the next little while I know it will be up and down, back and forth on the sanity scale. I'm thinking grief counseling would be a good idea. Anyone know if that could be useful? Even if it is, I'd have to talk her into it and that won't be easy. It's very hard to talk her into doing anything good for herself. Stubborn old woman. It's probably how I'll be at her age. Scares the crap out of me. I can only hope I'll be as selfless and giving.
I went outside at lunchtime and sat in the sun. It's the first real sun we've had in almost a week, and it felt so good! I watched two Yellow Swallowtail butterflies skittering through the air. I remember when I was a child we would see Monarch butterflies all day long (now a rarity) but Swallowtails were so special to see. I rarely see them anymore and today there were TWO. A good luck sign? I'll take it as such. And welcome.