Another November

I'm nearly 29 years old. Nineteen days away. I spent the better part of this past year moping through sporadic work assignments, diligent job application submissions, an unsalvageable and unrecognizeable relationship, maintaining a healthy weight, building brief relationships with children and adults in numerous settings, financial uncertainty, deep loneliness, staggering generosity and kindness of others, and dubious personal growth. This time last year I was wallowing in heartbreak.

Having given this idea another run, double the effort, no holds barred in honesty and genuine love and affection and avoiding any resentment, watching it come to an end this time around makes sense and it feels officially final. I know it's my fault; I insisted that we keep this relationship on life support because I simply could not cope with the idea that it would just die, just like that, and I'd have another thing to mourn and grieve over losing. When we broke up a few weeks ago, I braced myself for the rushing wind as the love of my life and everything we've ever had together for over a decade ceased to be the center of my world. I held my breath and waited for the implosion.

At this point, no natural disasters, no floods or fires, but my heart is a heavy weight and I am a fragile shell and I am only just able to tread water. But it still feels final; it really is over and it really needed to end. I'm not embittered, nor am I confused and lost without him. I love him, I respect him, I'm deeply disappointed that things didn't work out the way I had fantasized they would, and I still care about him. I am unable, however, to look him straight in the eye or act like we can be casual friends because for me the cards were on the table: I wanted to have this man forever. He knew that. He kept me far away and reminded me that he didn't want the responsibilities of a relationship and demonstrated how little he would do for the skeletal relationship that he obliged me because I couldn't just let go over the summer. He has his own issues that he has never addressed in a mature, emotionally-sound place. He has so many self-hatred demons to face. I hope he does face them and win. It's growth he's needed for as long as I've known him; it's a blockage I've always known him to possess.

I'm also just really sad. Mine is not the kind of job that finishes influencing me when I leave campus. It follows me home, directs almost everything I talk about, and demands attention in the evenings and on weekends. As I painstakingly assemble a routine and any kind of preparation in advance, I can see the tight grip loosening ever so slightly. I find myself angry and tense, and there's no window I can yell all my problems out of into the gales that would drown them out and take them away from me.

I lack the sense of daily accomplishment that I work so hard for and thrive so much from. I simply chip away at an excavation site filled with papers and glassware and gradebooks and lab preparations and collected homework and pushy emails from parents and copious professional development meetings and difficult and possibly confusing material and endless options for references. Craving a sense of completion each day has brought me to a place of void and bitterness. I could work 24 hours a day and barely be ahead of where I am.

Yes, this is the first year of teaching. The nasty things people in the media say or repeat about teachers having it easy are enough to make my blood boil.

I need a balance in my life desperately. The pendulum is swinging. I have something cresting on the horizon and it's only a matter of time.

Well obviously I'm doing it to my own disfavor. I'm clinging tightly to what I expect from others. I let go of some specific expectations from Toby, but it kind of seems part and parcel; now it doesn't make any sense to hold onto the other things. Especially when he makes no significant effort to stay in touch with me. It's a deliberate effort to push me out of his life.

I'll be brief but I want to put something here that has affected my spirit in a meaningful way:



I am a sponge for other people's energy. I desperately hope that I don't announce that to others in earnest and have it misconstrued as an excuse, because I genuinely have to struggle with the negative energy of others, and I am beaming after interacting with positive people. I am agitated after time with critical, standoffish, belligerent, judgemental, contentious, needy, selfish, inconsiderate people.

I'm especially agitated tonight. I ought to go to bed, because there's nothing that brooding over a lousy disappointment will fix. Sleep repairs most of my grumpiness, so it seems only logical to go to bed.

The next week and a half really need to be a step up from this, socially. In other respects, today was a find day; truly grand, in fact. I made a major leap forward in my field, as far as I'm concerned. My understanding seems clearer, my goals more specific and attainable, my path more defined. I have skills and I have experience and I know various things going on in my field. I could hold a conversation with someone whom I admire greatly, and I learned a huge amount from him today. I didn't bumble around with inarticulate, rambling sentences or self-aggrandize or tactlessly pursue conversation I oughtn't.

Where I'd like to work on things, truly, is how to separate myself from the self-conscious notion that everyone else has it figured out, but that I'm still some socially-stunted freak.

I don't want to pine away for someone to love and desire me. I've been hurting to be special for a long damned time. I just want to let it go.

In the nature of Virture

After toying with the idea of writing another blog for the past month at least, because I promised (to myself) that I'd update more frequently and stay upfront and honest (with myself), I went ahead and let it slip for weeks. Studying and exercising have consumed my time during daylight hours, while social events, dancing and insomnia enjoy my attention after dark.

Why can't I sleep? Because I have to make peace with the present each day, and some days it's not so easy to convince myself that I'm okay with it. With loving someone where a permanent barrier has always been and may always exist. With dashing my expectations and redirecting my goals. It's a totally different kind of heartbreak. The answer seems totally obvious, but I am terrified to do it. I convince myself to hold space until there can be no further justification.

I can't sleep because I'm angry. I can't sleep because I'm uncertain. Because I'm inspired. Guilty. Insomnia takes a different form and claims a different warrant every night, but the result is the same. Hours in the dark, wrestling my pillow and kicking aside a cooler niche into my sheets. Reliving years of forgotten moments. Echoing conversations, insecurities, fears.

I'm not fighting with geography anymore. After turning my direction back to Phoenix three weeks ago, when everything I set out to do came to an undeniable stall, I took it as a message loud and clear that God wants me here and this is where I need to grow. The initial twinge of defeat dissolved into peace, acceptance, and disconnected recuperation. I was welcomed into arms of friends. Suddenly, it became clear that the social world I imagined lived opposite the globe from me was enthusiastically distributed around the desert, anticipating my visits. The perceived failure of climbing back into a nest I'd outgrown was misconceived, as it turns out this is a generation phenomenon and not an embarrassing secret.

Learning, thinking, finding balance. Such quiet activities, so internal, so subtle. So vital. I've devoted this time to these things. It's working. I'm being dedicated and focused, and it's working.

I remember that my options are open, that the winds will change, that one must embrace change. I accept that at this present moment, any dramatic movement will tear my heart out like the entrails of a panicked, stinging honeybee, and so I will not make any dramatic movement.

There are lessons everywhere, to be learned from every life, transient and sessile. Staying sensitive to this is a forever task.

Thick as Thieves

A few months can change everything. In fact, a few minutes, a few days, a split second, the blink of an eye...these thing all hold the potential for drastic changes.

In four months, I have managed to apply for and be rejected by countless positions. I have landed two part-time, temporary positions (as a teacher and a tutor). I have cut my hair several times. I have made (and lost) friends. I have managed to change the outward appearance of my parents' home by priming and painting several major portions of the façade. Something happened with my financial situation that brought me from severely, desperately broke, to relatively afloat with careful management. I reduced my student loan debt by 11% of its total. I reconciled a small outstanding debt on a credit card.

Then, there were things that changed in the past few weeks, namely concerning my ambitions toward a graduate program. The school semester ended, and my income as a substitute teacher bottomed out. I spoke with some friends involved in pollination research and then met with a professor who invited my help volunteering in his laboratory with whichever graduate students could use a hand. In a 20-minute period, my goal shifted from getting into a masters program to pursuing a PhD. A friend of mine needed a house-sitter in Tucson for three weeks while she studies at a research station in Costa Rica, so I jumped at the opportunity for some free housing while I begin volunteering. Then, miraculously, I was forwarded an email from some people looking for a house-sitter for their dog for the summer for just the price of utilities consumed. What a deal!

In the last two weeks, I worked a few final subbing gigs, quit my tutoring job, and packed up my things to relocate to Tucson. I met with my postdoc friend who is using my volunteer help and figured out an initial gameplan for this side-project research that I am manning while she focuses on her central project. She and I went out dancing and I met several new, amazing people. I went to a housewarming party and got to know several extremely nice girls in the department to which I hope to apply. I went to a Bible study at the house where I was hoping to house-sit this summer and they seem convinced that I am reliable and trustworthy, and it seems to be set up.

In the last day, I have contacted a company who employs in-home caregivers for the elderly and picked up an application. I also worked for several hours prepping the plants in the greenhouse for the side-project I'll be working on this summer. My mind is starting to turn with possible ideas for research.

And since yesterday, I have had to reevaluate my expectations for my entire life. Toby and I are together; we are best friends, we are lovers, we are mutually supportive and we hold each other in the highest esteem. We love each other. However, he told me the same thing he's been telling me in various ways for a year and a half: he's not in love with me and he doesn't see us ending up married. Didn't I already know this, deep down? Probably. I knew he "needed more time" and "wanted to experience dating", but I told myself that because we were finally, physically together, that I'd passed that final checkpoint and that all the necessary pieces were in place.

Why the hell doesn't he have that j'ne sais quoi? with me? He said he lost that feeling when we broke up three years ago, because he was head over heels for me and didn't see the break-up coming. How could that be, I asked him, when for the final five or six months he made a point out of avoiding a commitment to any time with me on my days off, coming home every night after I'd been in bed for hours, and needless to say, we hadn't been together for a month or more. If he was so in love with me then, why did he do such shitty-boyfriend stuff? He recalls that, either way, that break up was the best thing that has ever happened to him; he's been making something significant of himself ever since. So he credits me with spurring him to be a better person, healthier, wiser, more gentle and loving. He says he loves me in every way that he could possibly love anyone or anything, except this one thing. His honesty brought me to my knees, literally.

Having a panic attack in front of the man you've loved and idolized for over a decade is embarrassing but it's relatively safe, considering he knows and trusts and understands me. He would do anything for me, and he proclaims this over and over again. Anything, that is, except commit on the long-term, "forever" basis that is being convinced that he wants to marry me. When the hell did I get my mind bent around the idea that I needed to be married, anyway? I hate being stuck to a want that simply will not be mine. Yesterday was a very difficult day.

So today I'm reassessing what my expectations have turned into in the past year that led to such crushing heartbreak yesterday. I will have to accept that the present status is okay for the time being, and not anticipate any upgrades in commitment. This is vaguely familiar to me; my job in Korea as an English teacher was quite clearly the best I was ever going to get, and as long as I derived the joy and fulfillment I needed from the position I was in, I could appreciate my relationship with Korea. Of course, if I had wanted anything more career-like, with promotions, better compensation and attractive vacation packages, it obviously wasn't the place for me in the long-term. I would rather spend this time with my best friend who is also my lover than put my foot down about what relationship status I imagine myself making public on Facebook in two years. Because it is Toby, and he will treat me like gold for the duration of our relationship, I will stay and we will have fun, and I will be at liberty to pursue whatever career or grad program options may come up for me.

In reality, nothing is changing but my expectations. Yes, of course, I've been choking back tears all day and listening to Neko Case on my iPod, but what I'm really grieving is some fantasy that I knew was fictive and still wanted to believe in. You can't surf if there are no waves, but you can still go swimming and enjoy the beach.

Another thing worth noting on the change-o-meter is that the timid, reclusive second cat who was coaxed indoors from life as a stray has made a daily appearance since Sunday. My friend warned me that she may not even come out from under the bed while I'm here, so I'm pleased that just 3 days after I set up camp, she's feeling bold and secure enough to venture near me.

I think I will make more of an effort to write. Additionally, I will make more of an effort to stay positive and optimistic. And pray and praise. It's only Tuesday and so much has changed in my world since last week, I can scarcely believe it.

not really abandonment

I'm just trying to commit to a decision. And really, when so many options seem viable and worthy of my time and effort, it's easy to feel inundated by them. It's easy to misinterpret the wealth of opportunity as a dearth of choices. I often make this mistake.

Presently, I am working on being honest with myself. When I spend too much time alone (this is subjective, of course, because "too much" is so variable), I run the risk of gnawing on details until they have become useless and disfigured. I begin to lie to myself, to convince myself once more of my crippling flaws and lack of social graces. Remarkably, I am successfully practicing the art of debate. My champion, my defender, hustles in to contend on my behalf against that little nagging voice, the one that doesn't use my mouth to be heard. The Defender always uses my mouth, so that my ears WILL hear it. Sometimes, the Defender insists I look in the mirror as an honest reflection, so that I am making eye contact while being pep-talked.

I can honestly identify my feelings in situations of supreme heartache--which lately are innumerable--and describe the logical source of my pain and frustrations. My Defender reminds me, patiently and repeatedly, that I want to experience what others seem to be enjoying, like romance, travel, and satisfying careers. My Defender also points out that my feelings are not unique, and that I am not isolated in this gridlock.

So, that's progress.

As an extention of this goal to commit, I am also forcing myself to be dilligent in my general efforts of staying tidy and motivated to succeed. If it's worth doing forever, it's worth working hard for. It's important to me, and I want to demonstrate to myself and those around me that I am not a quitter. I tend to lose interest in things that don't stir my soul, but I don't like to let people down, either. I will usually finish something I've started if anyone else is invested in the matter (whether or not I am still interested).

There are a few passions that have stood the trials of time, fire, and infinite obstacles: my goal to be a pollinator conservationist, my desire to be active and healthy, and my knock-down-drag-out love for Toby. Now listen, I know I could be fooling myself into thinking that I'm refusing to give up on him to prove my loyalty and my steadfastness. Maybe I am. I realize that I need to commit to something that will reward my efforts, something that won't conflict with my ultimate career choice.

I have peppered the city with job applications. Fortunately, I was blessed with a response, an interview, and an actual job that began last week. After dozens of unanswered emails with my resume and my most eloquent, positive-sounding cover letters, someone finally responded. It's not a major step up from the capricious nature of my original employment (substitute teaching), but we'll say that privately tutoring has its own rewards and it may make a significant different in the life of a child who I may not have been able to help in a classroom (mob) setting. My dilligence paid off, and it happens to be something flexible enough to suit me and my cravings for variety.

I have also sent out a sizeable mass of applications for field work relating specifically to pollination ecology. On Sunday, I got a bite on a wonderful project in California, and my phone interview with them is in less than an hour. I can commit to a temporary project in northern California, working with habitat restoration and pollinating native bees! That would rock my world.

Additionally, I am considering (but not committing to) the possibilities of a Masters program at the University of Arizona. I began toying with the idea a few months ago, hoping I wasn't subconsciously trying to fandangle my way into geographical convenience with respect to Toby. He's so rooted in one place, intimidated by change or risk, that it's not the best idea to seek out something just because he isn't bold enough to seize his dreams. When he does find the gall, he'll probably leap into being a chef. Toby makes his decisions after a great deal of consideration. My impulsive side rejects that, but my loyal, goal-oriented and committed side admires and sympathizes with him. His self-amendments are so gradual, they are really only noticeable after a long stretch. Slow and steady.

The potential networking opportunities of working in this entomology laboratory in Davis, California, are incredible. The experience would streamline my previous experience into something that makes much more sense to an outsider who might possibly consider my curriculum vitae. An outsider, perhaps, who will want to employ me in his or her laboratory and pay me for an excellent job done.

I've managed to narrow down my options for commitment. Yes, I have kept up a theme, and I will toss that word around as long as I can to support it. I'll keep going down this route. The ball is rolling now.

I had a deep, honest, recurring conversation with Toby this weekend. He hasn't deviated from his desire to date other people, to experience dating as an entity, to spiral from rejection and learn what his preferences are. He hasn't stopped loving me, and doesn't want to extricate me from his life, but he has issues he prefers to work on and amend before he commits (there's that word again) to something again with me. He assured me he knows exactly what I want, but that he isn't in a position emotionally to give it to me. He doesn't want to crave playing the field while being in a serious relationship with me, it wouldn't be fair.

I respect where he's coming from. I hate, HATE, HATE that he isn't ready for me like I am for him, but we operate at different speeds. I went off and found myself. He's still looking.

One day though, I'm afraid, he'll find himself and realize I was there all the time, supportive, loving, beautiful, honest, intelligent, and DEVOTED to him, and it will be too late. I don't want that romantic tragedy to be the story of our lives. I've never enjoyed Romeo and Juliet-style calamities. I want to be swept up with romance that penetrates deeply and profoundly, being understood and fulfilled by one another. That best friend thing. I want that.

I didn't abandon this blog. I just couldn't commit to an entry for a few months, is all.