the Full Plate

As much as I try to understand my belief that we are all energetic beings, I cannot seem to fathom how extensive our impact on the universe around us can be.  I want to picture, for example, what message is being inferred by my general reaction to stress and my manic schedule.  Have I pulled away, or changed my sunny disposition in the eyes of others?  How did my energy change and affect those around me?

I'm sad.  I'm so very disappointed, crushed by the grief that I lost something wonderful before it could even become.  It was as if my happy future life died right before my eyes, and I didn't expect it.  Logic would point out that a doctor's schedule, especially in the first years of residency, is not conducive to a new romance.  Optimism would coo that this sort of connection is possible, at the very least, and emotional growth is inevitable.  Retrospection would chime in that I've made a great deal of progress in my efforts to get into athletic shape and stick to a healthy eating habit, motivated especially by my competitive side.

But Heartache laments over and over that I am so lonely, that I was so close to being special, so utterly devastated by emotion and loss, and so hopeless for the potential of tomorrow.  And Forgiveness wants me to set him free, let him be, and support and love him anyway.

At the same time, I'm trying so desperately to be present at work.  To not slump in my seat and neglect my students' needs and queries, and to not isolate myself from my coworkers and friends.  I need to focus and plow through massive amounts of prep work, grading, and organization, while coordinating standards and materials and engaging activities.  I need to be in a good place, emotionally and spiritually, not bitter and furious at God for giving me something potentially wonderful and joyful and then RIPPING it away.  I love my job, and I feel safe and valuable here, if only here.

I'm also trying to work on healing the broken childhood and relationship I had with my mother.  Years ago, before I was ready to confront it, my therapist recommended a book to me about surviving a life with a parent exhibiting borderline personality disorder.  I didn't feel comfortable even opening the book, though I went out and purchased it, because I was timid about diagnosing my mother with a mental illness.  After moving into my new apartment, however, I unpacked my books and came across it again.  Since my mom moved me down to Tucson, she hasn't spoken to me, and because she was so hateful during that weekend and I have been so busy, I have not been compelled to call.  Predictably, if I don't initiate contact, we don't communicate.  Typical (with more than just my mother).

After reading half way through this book, I feel mingled relief, grief, anger, injustice, understanding, acceptance, and despair.  But most of all, I believe my mother really does suffer from symptoms of BPD.  This book is helping me take the steps to recover my childhood and identify where I did not develop healthy emotional tools, so that I can heal myself.

I'm also trying to settle into a new place.  A real place, a permanent one.  My own place.  First time in years and years.  That's more than I can even describe.  I just have to wait and see.

FUCK.

Oh God, the crushing reality that I'm not in any legitimate relationship, not even a budding one.  The terrifying realization that I have single-handedly destroyed the potential for something because even my very best efforts were UTTERLY worthless.

I'm doing it all wrong.  And in my fear and panic of not being capable of a healthy relationship, I take the slightest sign of distance as the first sign of the inevitable end.  God damn you, Toby.  You've ruined me.

So, insecurities trump me once again.  I'm back where I was, just exactly where I was, overworked and underappreciated and attention-starved.  Spending my time quietly panicking in my classroom late after hours or in my new, unfamiliar apartment.

What do I need to be happy?  Seriously, what is missing?  And how do I get it?

I need a turn-around.  A complete overhaul.  Because all this failing at life is fucking miserable.