I’m letting go of my own anxiety and trying to do this. I’ve promised myself to not delete this entry, so hold me to it, I suppose? My life is going so well, I don’t know why it’s easier to write about the bad things than the good. Maybe I feel like people don’t care so much when good things are happening, maybe I fear I’ll jinx it.
Maybe it’s a holdover from my father, and we don’t have time for that one tonight, maybe later. For right now we’ll start on the 18th of January…
I was both looking forward to and dreading the convention with my friends. The usual anxiety plus what I suppose was a sticky situation welled up inside of me. It turned out to be a really fun time. **I was SOBER**
Let me repeat. I. Was. Sober.
Other than the usual irritation of being around drunk folk I don’t know well while sober, it was a fun time! I left on Saturday night with the Ladyfriend and that was absolutely lovely. We hung out till I had to drop her off at the bus station then I turned in.
On Sunday, the 20th I picked up my things, made my way to the airport, and jutted off to Texas for a week of training all on the company’s dime. The flight was as comfortable as flights can be. I actually really love airports, I LOVE travel. Something about the transient nature makes me more comfortable than otherwise. Don’t get me wrong I love my home base and my space, but I really enjoy getting out. There’s a camaraderie in airports that you don’t find in other places. You can talk to a banker or a group of kids on a break; get a glimpse into someone else’s world and it’s brief enough to not get tired of them. I know better than to leave my bags, but I feel safe in airports.
Flying over Texas and watching the sun set was beautiful. Streets cut through the earth like arteries and veins; each one branching off into smaller clusters until the lines changed slowly into a patchwork quilt of farmlands. Streams and little ponds and lakes were dark inkblots that drifted away into the sunset. The city below was shining, lights were twinkling and it looked like we were flying in a ball of stars.
I was inspired to start writing there. When I landed in the tiny airport and collected my bags I was a bit out of sorts. I knew where I was, but it didn’t feel like I was there. They handed me the keys to a car, but I had no idea what the make or model really meant. I rolled my bag to the parking lot and then I realized that somewhere I’d become an adult. Here I was on a beautiful night, in a new city, all on my own and it was for work. When did this happen? The feeling washed over me again in the hotel room; when did I become an adult? The trip was interesting and I did enjoy myself, however, I was pretty happy to fly home on the 25th.
I turned in all my paperwork and started a wicked game of catch-up at work. I was upset with the person who was supposed to be handling my job while I was gone. I had just as much work when I arrived as I had when I left. Plus the extra work that I had to take on in training. I was blindsided with problems right off the bat and honestly, I’ve JUST NOW caught up with what I was wading through.
During all this I was looking for a new apartment, broke my temporary crown and had to get unscheduled dental work done, and am pulling an on-call shift. Despite all of that… I feel good. I’ve had down days between the 25th and now, today was one of them for the most part. I woke up at 4am and cleaned till I left for work, for example. The difference is that now I can be down and feel competent. That’s a new one on me. I’m worried this is a false sense of confidence. That when I show up to work tomorrow everything I did will be wrong and I’ll be on the outs. I’m worried that when I look at apartments tomorrow that none of them will work.
But I really need to sit that aside. I wish I could be excited again. The meds are helping, obviously, but… It would be wonderful to be interested in something, and excited. To want to share what I’m excited in and have other people be excited. It takes so much energy to be excited, it takes so much risk.