No. No this isn’t well-thought out or cohesive. But right now, neither am I.
My absence probably suggested I didn’t survive the summer. I didn’t think I would. Turns out surrounding myself with consistent things helped a lot. Turns out the temperatures not trying to roast me out of living helped a lot. I don’t know that I accomplished anything this summer, but I kept my heart and mind so busy. That did help. That kept me from letting my weaker brain bits take over and destroy my soul, like they usually do come summer. I don’t even know that I really slept this summer. I mean, obviously, I did, but I never really drowned in fatigue as in the past.
But now my love and friend Autumn is in full force, why he’s nearly gone now, and I’m getting weary. Before this started happening I found a therapist, as a preventative measure. This will continue to prove to be an excellent choice.
I’ve been at my current job for over a year now. With a wash of pride and shame I admit that this is the longest I’ve ever held down a job. I love what I’m doing. I love that mostly I just plow through paperwork and my fingers fly across keys as Stephen Fry or Jim Dale read Harry Potter to me. I love that my department understands my heart. I love that they’re becoming my friends.
Soon I’ll be moving to a new apartment still in town, but I look forward to the change. The space. The peace.
And yet, my mind and heart are pretty constantly plagued with rape culture and how to deal with and respond to it. It’s a very heavily discussed topic right now, I’m sure you noticed. And I have so many thoughts, and I assure you I’m working on compiling them, but for now it’s all just breaking my heart and filling me with a troublesome rage. My hands feel so tied. So very tied.
Last month I got to celebrate the union of two beautiful people with so many people I love. I don’t know if it’s the nature of Autumn in my heart, but I find myself grossly nostalgic. And while I’m terribly not, I feel very alone. College does this terrible thing to people. It surrounds you with all of these people that you just sort of have to be friends with or you have no friends. You live exclusively with them for four years, and then you go away. They go away. They all move to the same city, and you stay behind. And you feel this hand wrapped around your heart wishing you could be so near to them. It’s pulling you to them, but to what end? to have someone familiar? someone who knows your past? someone who knows that that voice isn’t weird, it’s normal? Because you’ve finally found people again, people who love and accept you no matter what, but there are so many gaps you have to fill in because they weren’t with you for four intensive years of development and growth.
Adulthood is stupid.